A DoubleEdged Blade
by Tiger-Hime
Summary: "I have not forgotten." Astral's roots lay with one, and her Spark lies with another. Did she really expect for it to all go away? Rated T. Rating may change. Ch.5 in process. Read and Review.
1. Second Chance

**Summary: **She finally stumbled upon the right rock. Her life has been changed greatly. But...who is she?

**Pairings: **Can't speak here or it will be considered a spoiler. :D

**Warnings: **None yet.

**Rating: **T

**Notes: **Please read and review. This is my new big piece!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Transformers: Prime. I do own Astral. DO NOT STEAL!

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><p>Astral twitched out of stasis. White, cold powder dusted her body. Groaning, the femme lifted her helm to survey the unfamiliar territory she resided in. Her shutters cleared her vision; dark pines surrounded the flier. Moonlight reflected on her dark colored armor while her servos cut through the perfection of the snow they rested on as they slid beneath her body. Strength returned to the muscle cables in her arms, and she lifted her body off the ground. Optics flickering from the effort, she felt dizzy almost instantly. A blue-green light tinted the frozen crystals below her face. Astral shook off the layer of ice and snow on her back before slowly bunching her legs underneath her. Sighing and producing a wisp of steam, the femme pushed herself to a crouching position and then sprung to her pedes. The jet's internal warnings blared within her processor, indicating heavy internal damage.<p>

"Frag," she hissed. Astral's hand traveled to her neck, rubbing it softly in irritation, and came away with fresh energon staining her palm. Blinking in disbelief, Astral wiped the precious fluid off on a nearby evergreen. How had she not felt it? Her hooked fingertips probed the wound and felt a thin layer of ice break apart beneath her digits. The pain from the wound started to ebb into her systems. That was how, she deduced. The ice had numbed her neck. Energon gushed from the wound, now, aggravated by her touch. Astral's wings flicked in annoyance as she opened a slot on her arm and pulled out a thick roll of black electrical tape. She tore off a strip with her teeth and, using the practiced fingers of a medic, she wrapped the tape around the broken energon line that was causing her problems and sealed it. The lifeblood began to rush back through her body and her sluggish systems started to quicken again. She ripped off another piece and taped the severed coolant line back together. Astral put the roll of tape back and snapped her armor back over the space. Clicking softly, the femme knelt down and gathered a handful of snow; she lifted it to the gaping hole on her neck and used it to wash out the wound, ridding it of dried energon, coolant and dirt from the ground. As soon as it was clear, not only did the injury feel better, but her auto-repairs also kicked on and started on her internals. Slowly the warnings ceased one by one. Another sigh escaped her, and another trail of vapor left her lips and drifted away. Astral watched it before beginning to crunch through the fresh white snow and icy forest, away from her current position. Her violet armor was mangled from…

Wait…what _had_ happened?

Astral stopped walking. The femme rubbed her face. She remembered being chased by a small Decepticon warship in her own puny vessel. She'd been caught in a firefight and had to abandon the cruiser or burn with it. The Vehicons had cornered her in this sector, and she had taken refuge on this planet. The rest of her memory was nothing but fuzzy afterimages.

"Slag it!" she cried, sinking to her knees to strike the ground out of rage. Her memory files had been damaged. The 'Cons likely had made sure of that. The femme started to notice things she hadn't before. There were severe burn marks on her back and neck, providing evidence of the usage of an energon prod. She shuddered at the thought, suddenly glad she couldn't remember those likely highly torturous moments. A diagnostic scan confirmed her thought: the prod had scorched parts of her processor. Dents covered her body. Scratches showed that she had at least fought back to some degree, despite the fact that she had had no formal training.

The femme's wings caught the moonlight and bounced off the silver Autobot symbols, causing her to blink away the brightness. She lifted her right hand, allowing it to trail over the distorted symbol on her chassis. Her fingertips scraped over the knuckle imprints, shaking her head. All she'd ever done in this long war was repair soldiers. Now, she couldn't protect herself from a handful of Decepticon trainees.

A sound drew her gaze to the air; she lifted herself to her pedes. A team of jets screamed above her head, but Astral's scanners made quick work of them, assessing and quickly pinpointing the design that would best suit her. Her armor shifted to fit the aircraft she'd chosen, working out most of the dents as it did so. At least now she would blend in if she needed to transform to get away. Muttering incoherently, the young femme continued to wander due south. Her fingertips tapped her leg nervously, optics trying to take in every paranoid detail as if Decepticons were stalking her at that very nanoklik. Shadows started to melt away as clouds drifted in and blocked the waning half moon. It wasn't long before more snow began to fall yet again. Astral glared at the tiny frozen droplets as though they were the most vile thing in the universe.

"This Primus-forsaken planet will be the end of me," she spat, more vapor curling out of her lips.

As she traveled farther south, static began to cut into her hearing. Astral cringed, tuning her comm frequency. More static was her reward, and she hissed. The jet turned the knob in the opposite direction and the sound began to recede. She blinked in relief. Soft murmurs of conversation came from her link and she tuned it further eagerly.

::Arcee, Bumblebee.:: Astral's thrusters ignited, and her Spark sang when she heard that achingly familiar baritone voice rumble over her headset. ::Have you found anything from the crash?::

::Nothing. There are a few dead Vehicons and pieces of unknown armor. Possibly from whatever they were chasing,:: responded a femme. Astral's optics widened. She knew that voice.

Crash? Astral didn't recall being run aground. Then again, her memory files had been corrupted severely on top of the fact that the prod had likely forced her into a heavy stasis lock. Perhaps that was why she crashed: unconsciousness.

Mechanical buzzes and chirps took over the channel briefly.

::No, Bumblebee, I want you two to return to base. We don't know what they were after. As far as we know, this could be a trap.::

::That's a bit complicated for Decepticons,:: pointed out Arcee.

::Be that as it may, I refuse to take chances. Report back. Prime, out.::

The channel returned to static. Astral shut off her comm, processor spinning from the conversation and her injuries. Dead 'Cons…had she snuffed their Sparks before she'd gone under and gravity had take over her body? Primus, she needed these files repaired!

Astral jerked her head up. Heaving in rapid intakes, the medic flipped out her twin daggers. She sighed with the relief of having not lost them. The blades were stained with energon that had dried. Astral scraped at it, but it refused to come out. She always kept her blades clean. So she _had _killed them before freefalling to the surface.

A wickedly pleased smile crept along the partially shadowed face, giving her a cold, calculating look. Stowing her weapons, Astral traced the signal that she had managed to pick up on. While that worked its magic, Astral couldn't help but think: the Prime was here. Her optics flashed with an emotion she did not understand for it had been long forgotten and cast away to the far, cobwebbed region of her processor. She had met him only once. Well, "met" wasn't exactly the right word…more like "attended to." Her commanding officer had sent her to Iacon to repair her leader's face. The medic had specialized in reconstructive surgery, and they had needed an exceptional surgeon. The femme had kept up with her work and rumors quickly spread that you couldn't tell where Megatron had nearly torn off the left side of Optimus' face, leaving it hanging in ribbons.

Focus! she reminded herself sharply. Astral scanned the coordinates and started forward again. She drew up her shoulders and wings. Minutes ticked by. Astral watched the shadows begin to shift to point in the other direction, indicating daylight was coming. A sun rose, casting pale yellow light on her icy purple armor. Her gray face turned away from the light. Cries from local organics startled her. She needed to transform and fly toward the signal. Walking would not do.

Pain came with the familiar motions of transformation. Warnings squealed in her audios, showing her internals were still too damaged. Astral cried her frustration. Joints aching from the cold, the jet saw only one solution. She dug out a depression in the earth until most of it consisted of dirt. It would have to do; the snow would damage her already vulnerable internals and slow even the most basic functions. Astral settled down and curled up in the bit of warmth she had managed to scrape up and even that was starting to bleed away.

The femme sighed yet again, shutters falling over her optics. Recharge found her eventually, taking care of her, trying to lull her. However, her rest was dreamless and light; she heard every little sound. The pain in her eased and made sleeping a bit easier. When next she woke, the moon was rising and there was a splash of red in the west.

The Autobot flier forced herself awake, blinking away the haziness of recharge. Once she was on alert, she clambered out of the hole she had scooped out that morning, using her foot to push in snow and fill it.

Astral ran another scan. The laceration on her neck needed immediate medical attention otherwise rust would overrun it and infect her entire body. The burns on her neck had receded to mild singes. The dents could be easily worked out in time. Other than that solitary worrisome wound, she was healthy enough for flight. Kicking off the ground, Astral transformed; power hummed through her new alternate mode. Building energy slowly, Astral waited a split second before shooting through the air, slicing the empty space open with her wingtips. Her body burned with excitement as she tracked the signal's coordinates. Beneath her, the icy forests sloped up into mountains. The femme couldn't resist rolling a bit, banking back on track when she strayed too far. She hated being confined to the ground, unable to touch the sky whenever she wished. It was like a trap to her.

Mountains began to soften to hills. Time passed and those hills became plains. Odd looking organics traveled in large numbers across them. She slowed a bit to watch them as they evaded another pack of organics that were smaller, more agile. The heavy, wooly herd began to split as the weak, old and infant slowed considerably. The swift pack overcame a large one that had a heavy limp and it fell, growing still as the pack ravaged its body.

Astral sped up again, plains shortening and giving way first to patches of sand then to a full-blown desert. Her signal grew ever stronger. Below her spanned a sea of golden powder awash in silver. Heat radiated from the landscape. A welcome change from the cold. Rock formations began to disrupt the empty space. Perhaps one of them housed the source of the-

A shot blasted the tip of her wing off. Astral transformed, snatching the falling piece out of the air as she collided with the ground. Gazing at the smoking wound in disbelief, Astral clutched the piece in her palms, enraged she had been grounded yet again. Her hands wrapped around the shrapnel tighter and tighter until it broke open the dermaplating on her palms and energon beaded along the thin lines. Face twisting in a snarl, she let out a primal roar as she dropped the piece of her wing and ripped her blades from their scabbards. The femme jumped up, blue-green optics fixating mercilessly on the figure that had destroyed her flight capabilities. It shot at her again; she dodged, but it singed her shoulder.

The jet rushed forward and knocked aside the immediate threat: the blaster. Yellow paint flashed across her vision as the bot she struggled against flapped his doorwings in frustration and struck her with his elbow, the sharp tip of the armor nicking the open wound on her neck. Astral snapped away, unlocking from the canary yellow mech and the fight he had brought. The mech in front of her took a step forward, but he halted almost as soon as he had. Astral twirled her blades, standing protectively by the piece of her wing.

Mechanical whirs greeted her audios. Astral's aggressive demeanor vanished. The young mech blinked. His large optics focused on her as she took in the information. Designation: Bumblebee, Autobot scout. A young bot merely on patrol, saw a jet and assumed Decepticon. _Don't they all? _thought the flier.

"Designation: Astral," she hummed, voice light. "Autobot medic and Aerialbot."

The mech chirped. He was going to take her to their base.

"You're stationed here permanently?" she asked in amazement. She sheathed her blades and stooped to pick up the piece of her wing. She examined it, determining it would be an easy fix for a trained medic, thumb running over the scorched edge. Her thoughts of repairs evaporated as she thought of how after vorns of wandering galaxies with no aim, no intent, she had finally stumbled onto a random planet and found the shattered remnants of a once magnificent race. _Her _once magnificent race. The femme's optics became laden with blue-tinted energon tears. _No, _she scolded herself. Crying was not an option here. Swallowing hard, she let out a soft intake to compose herself.

Astral turned and nodded to Bumblebee. The yellow mech transformed into his alternate mode: a four-wheeled ground vehicle. The femme followed him in her bipedal mode, as flying was not an option and she refused to assume a third, grounder mode. It was too demeaning.

Pride suddenly shrinking, the jet's Spark grew heavy. How would the rest of the team react to her presence? Optimus Prime, certainly, did not mind her as she mended his face. The scout didn't seem to care, but they had also rushed at each other half-cocked. How many more were there? At least two: Arcee and likely a medic.

The name almost set her off right then. That femme would surely attempt to rid the team of her, Autobot or not.

Bumblebee transformed and hummed. They were here.

Astral nodded and followed him into the massive rock formation. A metal tunnel swallowed them. It was dark for a moment before it dumped into a surprisingly warm, homely environment. Monitors flashed with images. Soft, high-pitched beeps blended with lower hums. It sounded like Cybertron.

Four pairs of optics gazed at her, rooting her to the spot while Bumblebee stepped over to center of the small team.

"Astral."

Hearing her name leave the Prime's vocaliser nearly threw her into critical system shock. Had he actually taken the time so long ago to learn the name of the femme that had saved the function of his face? Had he actually learned her name? Remembered it? Possibly in hopes of this moment coming?

She was being ridiculous.

"Optimus Prime." _Keep cool, _she reminded herself. _Act like you know who you are. Don't frag things up now. _"It's been a long time."

"Too long." What did he mean by that? she wondered. His silver faceplates shimmered beneath the overhanging lights, offering no proof of the tattered, nearly obliterated face she'd repaired. Astral was proud. The rumors were true; you couldn't tell.

"An Autobot jet. Been a while since I've seen one."

Setting her jaw, the flier turned to face the cycle-former. Her small stature almost made her want to laugh, but she knew better. The other femme's gray-blue armor was scarred. Some of the scarring was rather old and some looked as though it had been received yesterday. Which it likely had, considering. Her angled armor stopped shorter, showing silver dermaplating. Astral thought it stupid to expose so much sensitive armor until she moved and showed it was the thicker plates, modified especially for war. So, she, too, had heard of the upgrade and acquired it.

"Arcee," she said coolly. Her hip jutted out and she put her servo on it, wings flaring as she stared at her. Arcee's gaze was unforgiving and detached. She hadn't let it go.

"You two are familiar with one another?" asked Optimus cautiously.

"To say the least," answered the blue femme, assessing her violet rival quickly. This silent standoff lasted only nanokliks later when Arcee turned away. Astral pivoted to look curiously at a massive mech that took up most of her range of sight.

"Name's Bulkhead," he said softly, though his voice still rattled her dentals. "Welcome to base."

A tiny smile crossed her lips. Astral murmured her thanks, blinking slowly. A flash of orange and white drew her attention to a mech who looked positively indifferent about…anything.

"This is our medic, Ratchet," offered Optimus. A scowl seemed to be permanently etched into his features. The mech nodded to her.

"Well, I _hate _to break up this lovely event," interrupted Arcee, gathering Bulkhead and Bumblebee. "But we have children to pick up. We'll be back soon enough, Prime."

The three grounders transformed in one swift motion in near perfect sync. They moved as a unit, driving out through the tunnel and leaving the remaining three alone. Astral turned to the medibot, still holding the piece of her wing in her palm.

"Let me fix that. I'll take a look at that wound on your neck, too, though the patch job isn't bad." Astral handed him the fragment. He ran his thumb over the edge just as Astral had, noticing it was relatively smooth.

"Bumblebee?" he asked.

Astral nodded. She sidestepped closer, allowing him access to her throbbing wing. His palm brushed over it, causing it to flick out of his reach and the flier to catch her intake.

"What the frag?"

"Wings are overly sensitive in fliers. Lots of nodes come up between the armor," she explained. Astral let out the intake lodged in her throat and relaxed her wing, letting it fall into Ratchet's hand. He grunted and began his work again. Wincing, Astral tried to ignore the pain by focusing on the computers set up in the middle of base. She watched as images of other parts of the planet came up, flashing by quickly as scanners constantly monitored the small world they resided on. Her optics put together an image, but found it very difficult to do so.

"Where have you been since the evacuation of Cybertron?" broke in the Prime, voice tumbling over her audio receptors gently.

"Around. I managed to come by a sorry excuse for a cruiser. But it flew and I needed something to get me between galaxies. The 'Cons knew I didn't have any formal combat training. Whatever I know I picked up on the streets of other planets. All the same, they don't like it that I'm learning, still resisting them." Astral bit her lip when Ratchet slid his hands down her wing. "I've been in and out of countless solar systems for vorns."

Optimus Prime nodded, offering no comment either way.

"I'm not the most glamorous fighter, but I can manage with the daggers I have," she promised, suddenly feeling the crushing need to prove herself worthy to stay with the team. Or maybe she just wanted to impress the Prime. "I've been working with them since I got yanked from medical school and they assigned me to a unit that seemed to always end up mauled and unrecognizable." Astral was quite proud that she had managed to segue that into the conversation.

Ratchet looked up, his repairs ceasing. He craned his head around; he took a few steps until he could meet her gaze, his own optics slits. "You're a medic?"

"Yes," she responded heatedly. She would not be put down! "I'm a reconstructive surgeon." The femme folded her arms, satisfied.

"You don't look like an R.S." Ratchet rubbed his chin. Suddenly his optics seemed to bulge out of their sockets, and his jaw went slack. "Wait…_you're _that femme that fixed Prime back after the battle for Tyger Pax!" Astral nodded. "You left no scars! How was that possible?" Ratchet turned back to his own work, completing the weld. "Test that."

"Not exactly." Astral transformed. The medic's weld was expert and no force could undo it. She returned to her bipedal mode. "Will you look at my neck now?" She bared the right side of her neck, letting the wound stretch and become more accessible. Ratchet undid the electrical tape. His hands moved with incredible speed as he mended the energon line and then the coolant line. Fingers probing the circuits, Ratchet announced, "Only the lines were damaged. The circuits have mended on their own. I'll patch up the armor and the mesh."

"No major ruptures beneath the internal paneling?" she asked.

"None. No shrapnel either so it was likely a bad shot from a Decepticon pulse blaster." Ratchet welded a new piece of the silver and now-rare battle dermaplating over the hole in her neck. He molded it so it blended in perfectly before adding a layer of protective mesh. "There. Now show me the scar Prime has from you."

Astral rolled her head around to adjust to the new plate. She turned to Optimus who had remained silent this entire time. "May I?"

"Certainly."

The red and blue mech knelt down for the shorter femme. Her hungry gaze roved across his helm, taking it in. For a reason she could not place, her Spark decided to leap into throat and pound forcibly against the muscle cables. Her fueling tanks twisted and turned within her like a serpent. Biting her tongue until it bled, the femme tried to focus on her servos. They caressed Optimus' face as her fingers trailed the sight behind his audio in hopes of finding the scar. Nothing. Astral narrowed her optics, determined to find the evidence of her work. There it was. Her middle finger drew over a long, thin scar. It had been smoothed and painted over multiple times. It had already been virtually invisible but now it was a miracle even she could find it.

"Here, Ratchet," she murmured, meeting her leader's gaze. She smiled faintly, remembering…

"_Astral!"_

"_Yes, sir, Ironhide!"_

_A black battle-scarred mech narrowed his optics at the approaching flier. She swallowed hard, folding her hands behind her back._

"_Er, Commander?"_

_The Autobot soldier grunted, appeased by the correction for the moment. "Optimus Prime was seriously injured in the battle that took place in Tyger Pax. Megatron brought a mace down on him and nearly took off the left side of his face. Decepticon punk."_

_Confused, Astral flicked her wings about, asking, "Why does this pertain to me? Sir."_

_Ironhide chuckled, amused. "You're the best surgeon we've got. _You're _going to repair him."_

_Astral gaped at him, part of her growing angry at that smirk on his face. Fear took over the rage for the moment. "Commander Ironhide, I-I can't."_

"_And that's where you're wrong, Astral. I've seen you work. I have seen you repair a mech's jaw after it was crushed nearly to powder and make it look untouched. Another medic would've said it was hopeless and sent the mech to be shot in the fields. This will be simple. I trust you."_

_The jet blinked. Her commanding officer nodded, blue orbs locking her in place. Her wings lifted and after at least a cycle passed, she nodded._

_A grin passed over his face. "That's my girl." Ironhide patted her helm tenderly. Astral glared murderously at him; he knew how much she loathed that. He drew her over to an opening ground bridge. The stepped through, turning up in a medical ward that was locked tight. The jet caught her breath and turned away, but Ironhide forced her gaze back to the damage. After all, she was the one hope the Prime had._

_Hanging in shreds, the left side of Optimus Prime's face was nearly gone. The corresponding optic was dangling with the rest of his face, having been knocked out of its socket. The optic held on by the cords that kept it functioning. The metal faceplate was in ribbons. However, the infrastructure appeared to be mostly intact which would make things much easier on Astral._

"_Where are the tools?" she asked, voice shaky with fear._

"_Right by the berth. He's drugged already, but he requested he stay conscious. His pain receptors are disabled. You two will also be alone."_

"_No." Astral caught the dark mech's arm. "Ironhide…will you stay?" Astral looked small, frail and utterly terrified. The ebony warrior nodded. Shivering, the femme strode over, talons clicking along the damaged strips of metal as she studied it. She assessed the carnage, determined what needed to be done. Her blue-green optics settled on her leader's functioning one. "You won't be able to tell when I'm done," she promised in a whisper. "I will do my best, sir."_

_The large mech was vulnerable, but he radiated strength even in what could very well be his last moments. A faint nod was all she needed. An unconvincing smile played at Astral's lips._

_She set to work._

"That is truly incredible," mumbled Ratchet, thumbing the mark over and over. Optimus laughed deep in his throat.

"I could not believe it either. Megatron had done a number on my faceplates."

Astral shrugged. "I was just doing my job." She couldn't hold her leader's intense blue stare for long. Her tanks simply couldn't take it. The femme was afraid she'd vomit if she continued to torture her fueling system for much longer. "Though I will admit, it's probably the best job I've done." She smirked.

"I never thanked you properly for the repairs," murmured Optimus, optics warm and claiming her own.

"No need," she insisted. "I was happy to service my leader."

"All the same, I am in your debt, Astral."

The jet held back a chirp of happiness. Her Spark threatened to burst with pride. Was it pride? Astral snapped inwardly to stop fooling herself, she knew what this was. And she could take it or leave it. She saw Ratchet studying her, trying to decide whether or not to like her.

"Shall I show you base?" he ventured. So she had cleared with him.

Her wings twitched, wincing at the spike of pain. "You have any painkillers first?"

Ratchet fished through his supplies and filled a syringe. The femme took it carefully, slipping the needle beneath the plating on her arm and jamming it into an energon line. She shot the pinkish liquid into her systems and almost immediately felt the relief. She nodded, and the syringe passed between their servos again. Energon beaded on the dermaplating on her arm, but she ignored it. The flow would stop soon enough when her auto-repairs mended the tiny hole the needle had made.

The femme followed the medic, allowing her body to release its tension from being shot down once already today. The older mech took her through the winding halls, naming everything. Those were the main energon lines that fed the ground bridge. This was the main grid. Down that way was spare parts for both their machines and themselves; he always kept them away from the main hangar so nothing could happen to them.

"Down this hall are our private quarters. I suppose we'll have to settle you into one." Astral peered into each one as they passed. The first was painted a soft red that was neither too bold nor too gentle. There was a small berth, and one corner was dedicated to photos of two mechs she recognized all too well. Soft flickering things illuminated the tiny shrine. Swallowing the meaning of it, she focused on the next room. This one was painted in a loud mixing swirl of colors. The berth occupied the back wall. A sound system decorated the walls and ceiling. Discs of music filled shelves. A few datapads were strewn on the floor. A young mech lived here, likely Bumblebee. Music was important among the younger generations. The third room was painfully simple, holding a large bed and little else. Small posters decorated the space on the walls. The fourth room was littered with medical books and supplies that desperately needed cleaning. Even the berth housed crates that had not yet been unpacked because there was simply no more space on the shelves provided. The desk was piled high with datapads. Astral smiled. The last room was shut up tight. A frown dominated her lips.

"Does he always keep it shut?"

"Every nanoklik of every day. He's a surprisingly private mech." Ratchet paused. "Though…I will say it's very reminiscent of Cybertron."

"Like yours?"

"Yes. It seems neither of us are quite ready to let go."

Astral sighed, optics growing glassy with tears. "I don't think any of us are."

The two medics continued on in silence, memories lulling them into stillness. Both of them knew wishing would do nothing, that hoping would not make it go away, and yet still they wished, still they hoped.

"Our energon supply is in here. We have to ration what we have," Ratchet muttered. "But for the most part we eat what we want."

Astral's gears scraped together at the thought of fresh energon. Her supply had either been lost in the explosion or had fallen to the surface where Decepticons had more than likely ravaged the miserable few cubes she'd had.

"Humph. Starving yourself isn't exactly the way to start out." Ratchet flung open the door to their supply. He picked up a cube and shoved it at her. The femme touched her lips to a corner and tipped the cube up. The liquid spilled down her throat rapidly. As soon as she grew accustomed to it, she drank it swiftly and greedily. "Better?"

"Better." Astral drew her tongue over her lips to lap up the access energon and rid herself of the bluish stain she knew the energon had begun to leave. Ratchet took the empty cube from her and tossed the glass into a chute which surely led to an incinerator where the medic would melt it down to use again. "So, did Bumblebee and the others leave to pick up sparklings?" She was afraid of the answer.

"Ahhh, not exactly."

Astral cocked an optic ridge. The relief that washed across her was nothing compared to the fresh welling of curiosity.

"See, we've made an alliance with-"

"Where is she?" squealed an unknown voice. "I can't wait to meet her!"

"You should see for yourself."

Ratchet led her back to the main hangar. Astral was immediately approached by a tiny organic. She recoiled in horror.

"Dear _Primus! _What _are _they?" she cried.

"Duh, we're humans!" She put her hands on her hips indignantly. The human turned to Bulkhead. "You didn't tell her about us?"

"You mean you've aligned yourselves with these creatures?" Cautious and somewhat fearful, Astral knelt down to face them.

"Yes. This _is_ their planet after all," Arcee muttered, words chilly. Astral ignored her.

"I'm Miko!" The loud one smiled broadly. "Bulkhead's mine."

The femme snapped her head up with sharp urgency. "You mean-"

"No, no. It isn't that way." Bulkhead rubbed his helm, coughing nervously. "I'm her guardian."

"Oh." She peered at Miko, optics roving the fleshy body with the overwhelming inquisitiveness of a medic. "Interesting." A tentative finger probed one pigtail, turning her head with excessive care.

"Yes, you will have to be very careful around them," grumbled Ratchet. "If they get underfoot…"

Miko shuddered. "I don't want to talk about it." She turned and spread her arm to indicate two other humans. Male. "This is Jack and Raf. His full name is Rafael but only the boss calls him that." She jerked her thumb to Optimus. Astral smirked at the thought.

"H-hi," piped the small one.

"Your guardian would be…?"

"Bumblebee."

_How appropriate, _she thought, amused. Raf stepped over. The femme tilted her head, eying the lenses over his optics. Poor sight, perhaps? Some bots would wear them when they couldn't afford correctional surgery.

"So then you're Jack?" she questioned, turning her gaze to the other male.

"Yeah. I'm Arcee's." He turned away and walked to stand by his guardian. Obviously the femme had told him in an attempt to turn part of the base against her. Well, it worked, she noted bitterly.

"Wait a second. If you're an Autobot, why are you a jet? The only jets I've seen are 'Cons."

"Miko!" hissed Raf.

"Let her ask her questions," Arcee growled. Astral glared at the other femme, standing and drawing herself to her full height.

"I was born this mode, Miko," she began, tasting the strange name on her tongue. "Because both my creators were jets. And an aerial mode offers a certain tactical advantage a ground vehicle lacks. On Cybertron, most jets became Decepticons because they were considered superior to grounders." The femme looked back down at Miko. "I just happened to stay an Autobot."

Raf came forward, studying her with practiced eyes. "You seem to have a similar build to Arcee's despite the different alt modes you have."

Astral's optics glowed dangerously as her azure rival glared at her. Her dagger hilts glinted in their scabbards when she shifted her weight to the opposite foot.

"You use similar weapons, too. That's cool." Raf smiled.

Arcee whirled and stomped away, Jack following her. The remaining femme watched her leave.

"Whoa. You can _feel _the tension." Miko probed the air experimentally.

"Why don't you two like each other?" asked the tiny male.

Astral's optics flashed with long-suppressed memories. The mech she'd taken. News of his bloody, painful demise. Arcee screaming it was her fault. Parting at odds. She set her jaw.

"Because neither one of us knows how to forgive."

The room was silent for a long time. Even Miko's voice did not penetrate the silence.

"Now may be the time for that to change." They all turned toward Prime. "I would like for you to train under Arcee and Bumblebee." Astral opened her mouth to protest, but a raised palm destroyed that action. "I know you two have a history, a rocky one at that, but you work with blades and so does Arcee. She will be invaluable to you. Bumblebee, I trust you to keep things civilized and teach Astral all that you know in hand-to-hand combat as well as teaching her the mechanics of firearms."

The mech chirped and nodded. Astral folded her arms, sulking slightly.

"Astral, you may take the room that is open at the end of the hall by Ratchet's." The jet nodded, optics settling on her leader. "Welcome to the team."

The femme smiled. Her face fell. "My stuff…it had to have fallen from the ship. I ejected the capsule before it exploded."

"If it's here, I'll be able to find it." Ratchet started a scan. Beeps and clicks hit her audios. "There. It's within the Canadian province of Saskatchewan."

"Bulkhead, Bumblebee. Recover the pod and return to base," ordered Optimus. "Stop for nothing."

"Understood," Bulkhead rumbled.

The ground bridge opened and the pair raced through, Miko sneaking after though Astral said nothing about it. "I can't go?"

"No. That neck wound is too easy to open right now," snapped Ratchet. She rolled her optics.

"Fine." The femme started down the hallway, finding the room and realizing it was a mess. "Lovely." She worked to clear away the rubble and empty containers to reveal a grimy berth. Growling, the femme tore off the sheets, showing her that only they were dirty. She had her own so it did not matter. The flier tossed them outside with the rest of the junk. Within a few cycles, the room was empty save for the berth. She sat down on it. Astral touched the symbols on her wrists. The names whispered themselves in her audios and a sad smile played with her lips. She kissed all four, one by one.

"I have not forgotten."

* * *

><p>IF YOU READ, REVIEW!<p> 


	2. Heaven Little By Little

**Summary: **Astral has more than one problem at base.

**Pairings: **Astral/?

**Warnings: **Nightmares, torture, drug abuse.

**Rating: **T

**Notes: **This was my favorite chapter! Please please PLEASE review!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Transformers or teh characters. I do own Astral. Please do not steal.

* * *

><p>Morning light broke in from a tiny one-way glass window far above the room. The light immediately hit Astral's face. Her face scrunched up, shutters fluttering softly as her optics adjusted to the change in lighting. Yawning widely, the femme rolled onto her back and sat up. Her body ached from the injuries she'd sustained in the previous solar cycles. Her wings flapped, easing most of the stiffness out of them. Astral held back a bitter sob when pain shot up her neck. The Autobot surgeon took a syringe filled with rose colored painkillers, shooting it into her systems. The pain receded, but there was a nagging bite still within her. Ratchet was already trying to wean her off the medicine. Frustration got the better of her; she flung the needle across her room, shattering the glass. Her optics glinted. She tossed her sheets back and strode over, picking up the pieces and dumping them on the side table Bulkhead had given her. "I don't need it," he'd said. For now, her room was relatively empty. She intended to change that soon.<p>

A soft knock on her door drew her back into reality. She walked over to the door and keyed in her code, pulling it back. Her faceplates turned as pink as her painkillers, and her Spark housed itself in her throat again. Fueling tanks knotted and fluttering worse than her wings, her vocaliser formed no words.

"I heard glass break. Is everything alright?" asked Optimus Prime.

"Yeah." She nodded dumbly. "Ratchet just downed my dose. I wasn't exactly happy about that."

The Prime's powerful gaze flicked past her to spot the broken syringe. "Mm."

Astral blinked, knowing he'd seen. The femme walked to the back of her room and swept up the pieces into her palm. Optimus followed slowly.

"I suppose you intend on decorating?" he assumed, though it still sounded more like a question.

Astral smiled, "If I can find time. My schedule consists of training and breathing." She dumped the shards into a box reserved for trash. "Arcee's going to work me 'til I break."

"That is why Bumblebee is there. He's young, but he will keep things in check. And I will make sure you get time to make your room yours." The large mech looked around they gray, neutral room.

"Thank you, Optimus."

"It's the least I can do." His gaze rooted her to the spot. She knew what he was thinking, and she groaned.

"Oh, Prime. Please, don't feel like you have to do favors for me because of the repairs. It was my job." Her servos gripped the edge of her desk as she leaned against it, crossing one leg over the other.

The crimson and royal blue mech did not say anything as he looked away. Astral's ridges came together. Had she said something wrong? That tightened her gut further. "Optimus, I-"

"It's fine, Astral," he murmured, though she tried her hardest not to wince at the newfound iciness in his words. His voice softened when he said, "Come down to the main hangar. Indulge yourself. I have a feeling you will need it."

Her leader turned, sauntering out of the room. Astral waited until he was out of sight before grinning madly, face draining of the blush that had been present the entire conversation. The femme's wings trembled with her elation. She turned back to her desk, thumbing the names on her wrist before leaving her room as well. The femme punched in her code, locking the door. Her pedes clicked against the floor as she followed the winding hall until it dumped into the hangar. All except Bulkhead were awake and moving. Ratchet slid her two cubes of energon. Arcee narrowed her optics at her, revenge clear in her optics. Astral ignored the stare. The flier tapped the glass she held, drinking it slowly to allow herself time to process the amount she was taking in. Still, she devoured both glasses in no time. The femme watched Bumblebee dump his cube into a trash bin. She followed him and did the same, making a mental note of the process.

The mech hummed and buzzed. Should we start training?

Astral looked to Arcee. Her once-best friend nodded, dumping her cube. "We'll start. Let's go." The pair followed the gray-blue femme into the training room where multiple dummies and targets already awaited them. A table was set up with various blasters Astral could adapt to. Biting her lip, Astral looked over at Bumblebee. He nodded encouragingly as she walked over to Arcee. The cycle former jerked her head at her scabbards. "Get 'em ready."

The femme tore the daggers from their sheaths. The hilts caught the light, sending scattered rainbows across the room. Arcee examined the knives with a practiced stare.

"Cybertonian alloy. Black mirror stone for the hilts. Inlaid with gemstones?"

"No."

"Engraved?"

Astral did not respond. Arcee smirked.

"Yes then. Pretty, expensive, overly flashy. But can you use them?" Arcee stepped aside. The femme transformed her hand into her blaster, watching it instead of Astral as she called, "Hit the hanging light above the armored dummy. Hit the dummy's optic with the other."

The flier's optics burned with hatred at her indifference. She grabbed the blade of one, rearing back and sending it spiraling toward the light as she swung her left arm in a wide arc and let it's counterpart go. Sparks flew from the overhanging light, fire catching on a few of the burlap Decepticons. The second blade had tore open her target's optic. The femme folded her arms as Bumblebee scrambled to stomp out the red flames. Arcee met her gaze furiously.

"Lucky shot."

"I didn't shoot," Astral muttered smugly. Her wings twitched in cruel satisfaction. The smirk that crossed her face jolted Arcee out of her enraged state. The cycleformer stormed over, and she yanked both blades from where they had buried themselves. She threw them back at Astral and it was all the medic could do to dodge the deadly projectiles as they sailed through the air, slicing open the empty space that had just been occupied by her audio. A loud sound made all of them flinch and turn. The dual daggers were now stuck hilt deep in the wall across the corridor.

Bumblebee glared at Arcee, sticking his arm out to point meaningfully at the daggers and whirring angrily. The silver and blue grounder stormed over and began to work on digging the blades out. He chirped to Astral. We need to find you a gun that you like.

Astral glared back at Arcee fighting the wall for the blades, swearing something fierce. It was certainly going to be a very long day.

* * *

><p>The midday sun beat in the few panels of glass that was allowed. Astral stumbled into the main hangar, tripping over her own feet. The jet's wings drooped, exhaustion shadowing her face. Fresh dents and unglamorous scratches zigzagged and jockeyed for space on her amethyst armor. Even the thick, reinforced dermaplating on her middle, back and parts of her arms and legs was beaten and bruised. She found the closest seat and flopped down, resting her elbows on her thighs and leaning her helm into her palms. Not only did she have a massive processor ache, but her painkillers were wearing off, and even <em>Bumblebee <em>could not offer her any more false encouragement. Arcee hadn't been giving her much to work with in the beginning, but Astral could tell it was all she could do to keep from laughing. If not for the sweet yellow scout with them, Astral would've long been the joke of base. Gnawing her lip to keep from crying, the Autobot flier let out soft whimpers and rocked herself. The ache spreading throughout her body was unbearable, but Astral knew she couldn't take the risk. No more needles. No more pink liquid.

"Astral?"

The medic managed to squeak out, "I'm fine, Ratchet." Her entire frame was shaking uncontrollably. The footsteps receded again. Part of her wanted to call out to him, wanted him back in here to hold her down and scream at her not to want it. The rest of her wanted him gone. Through the haze of suffering, Astral fumbled through the medic's supplies, picking up a fresh syringe. Whispering cries pleaded with her, tried to reason with her and say it would all mean nothing. Ignoring those words, she focused on the drugs sloshing within the glass. Without bothering to test the needle or check the dosage, Astral stuck the needle in her arm, warmth and lightness spreading through her with the liquefied solace. Leaning her head back, Astral closed her optics, allowing it to fully sink in before she filled the syringe and took two more. These would last her until tomorrow. Systems now laced with the drug she had been craving since that first needle yesterday, the femme stashed the needles with her electrical tape. The jet sat there for a long time, mulling over the events of the day. So far she'd destroyed part of training room without learning much, her trainers couldn't stomach the weight of her horrid performance nor could they accept she was no soldier, and she had rekindled a long dormant addiction to painkillers.

A sense of failure overcame the sense of bliss she had gotten from the drug. Shutters overladen with tears, she burst into pitiful sobs. She had let them all down. Every one. The names on her wrist popped out at her with more force then ever before. She had promised them no more drugs. No more days scrambling for money to fuel her addiction. Some sort of mental barrier shattered as she sat there crying out the failure. Today, she couldn't live with herself. Astral looked at the now-closed slot on her arm. It didn't matter. Any of it. The femme wiped her optics, relieved to find they were still there. She was impressed. They had held their ground even when she hadn't. It gave her another reason to stop.

Astral's back was to the hangar. Slowly she walked away. The syringes were still in her arm.

* * *

><p>Moonlight splashed over Astral's room. Three walls were now painted a gentle lilac with swirls of gray. The final wall was in the process of being coated. The jet drew the brush over every square inch of the wall's surface. A smile played at her lips as she colored the wall. Time ticked away, but Astral felt no rush, or much of anything for that matter. It was a nice feeling, nothingness. Only the drugs brought it to her. Even the knots and heat that Optimus had brought when she was clean had reduced to nothing.<p>

The thought stopped her mid-stroke. Her optics settled on something far away, remembering those feelings. The slight dizziness. The warmth that devoured her so readily. The blush that crawled right up her neck. Her Spark moving into her throat. All of it was so uncomfortable, and yet so…desirable. The hand holding the brush fell to her side. Now that she thought about it, the feelings the Prime brought her were not unlike the painkillers she stuck in her arm. They both worked their way under her armor, causing her body to heat rapidly and relax at the same time. A level of happiness never thought possible overcame her when the effect was full. When it was over, both left her craving more.

But which was stronger?

Optics clouded, Astral forced herself to continue painting until the entire wall was a rich lilac. She dropped the brush and turned to the gray, drawing its essence onto the purple surface. The femme kneaded her lip between her teeth as the gray swirls halted. Now she traded it for a brush that had been soaking for a while in black paint. Quickly and fiercely, she slapped a series of Cybertronian symbols across the wall. She added a small dash below it accompanied by more symbols. It was done. The brush fell. She sat down, rubbing her helm. The effects of her most recent dose were wearing off. It was time for an experiment.

Astral jumped up, swinging over her bed and flinging open her door. The flier tried his room. No answer. Biting her lip again, she rushed into the main hangar. Empty. Now beginning to panic, Astral swept through the halls, checking every room. She needed to find him. The painkillers were gone from her systems now. If he wasn't around-

The training room.

Astral whirled around and raced the desire that was creeping up on her. Her wings tightened with hurt. She stopped in the doorway and instantly the need fell away as though it had been shot out of her.

"Is something the matter?" asked Optimus softly, frowning in concern.

_Yes, I stole painkillers from your medic, shot them in my arm, and need your voice to crush my addiction, _she thought all she said was, "Couldn't sleep."

"Nightmares?"

_No. _"Yes."

Optimus transformed his cannon back into his servo. "I, too, find myself plagued with them. Some of the things I have seen I wish I hadn't."

"I know that feeling," she murmured, thumbing her wrist. "I'm sorry about the light. And setting some of the targets on fire."

"No need. Bumblebee informed me of what happened."

"I bet he also mentioned how horrible I am as a soldier." Astral looked distastefully at a scrape on her chassis.

The Prime smiled. Astral had to keep herself from falling over at the sight. "No. He said you were doing admirably. You lack a bit in hand-to-hand combat, however, but he said you are fabulous with your blades. As for using a firearm, you could use more practice, but he has faith."

Unable to speak, Astral stood there, not caring how idiotic she looked with her mouth parted, optics wide and intakes short as she tried to stammer out coherent thoughts.

"You are surprised to hear this?"

She nodded. "I was sure they both thought I was awful." Astral's wings flicked back and forth. "I don't even know how to respond. It felt like none of the guns fit right and they resisted me. I was nervous using my daggers so everything felt wrong…"

"You underestimate yourself, Astral," pointed out the large mech gently. "Give yourself more credit." His servo brushed over her helm, causing her core temperature to rise rapidly. Her coolant lines expanded, and her fans tried to ease into function. Swallowing hard, Astral forced herself to hold her leader's gaze. Neither of them said a word for a long time. Finally, Prime murmured, "Will you show me?"

Astral's optic ridges folded together. "What?"

"Your daggers. I want to see you work with them."

The jet hesitated, but she nodded. The Autobot femme slid the twin daggers from their scabbards, focusing only on the energy that hummed through them. Her optics settled on a dummy that had its back turned to her. The femme kicked off, knees pulled together and ankles rubbing the small of her back, she opened her arms. Her feet hit the ground, and her arms drew in the target. One hand slapped over the target's mouth while the other hand drew the blade across its neck. Ripped open, it clattered to the ground. Astral stabbed another through the Spark and jammed the occupied dagger's twin into the midsection of another, twisting it for good measure. Yanking them both back, she grabbed both knives by their blades and threw them at separate targets. Both hit their mark, knocking the "Decepticons" down. Astral drew in heavy intakes, counting. She'd slaughtered five targets. She was impressed with herself.

"That was excellent. Though she left yourself open too long when focused on the second dummy."

Astral felt a pang of disappointment, but she took note of his words. Perhaps she would work on her speed next session. The jet walked over and pulled out her blades, sheathing them. Optimus gazed thoughtfully at her, and Astral's optics roved the room, finding it very hard to focus on the mech.

"Do I unsettle you, Astral?" he asked suddenly. The surgeon was startled by the question, so much so she stared intently at him.

"Not…exactly," she murmured, unsure of how else to respond. She could not very well tell him. It would mean possible chaos.

Still, Optimus Prime did not look convinced.

"It's just…hard to explain," offered the femme. Her talons scraped over the armor on the opposite arm, taking small steps closer to him though each step seemed to jar her fueling tanks. Optimus remained still as she approached. Astral got the feeling he was treating her like an animal, and if he moved too suddenly she would spook. The thought annoyed her and spurred her on. They were so close by the time she stopped that the armor on their chests brushed together, creating tiny white sparks. Astral's optics roamed his face. Her leader's gaze seemed to peel away her armor, leaving her cold and exposed to his judgment. That powerful stare saw everything in her, and she was okay with that. As long as he was still around, she didn't care. It felt like Optimus pulled everything to the surface and forgave it. Forgave who she was. Forgave her lies. Forgave even the one that had brought her into this war. Around him she felt…safe.

"We both should return to our quarters. We will need the rest," rumbled the baritone that rocked her core. Face flushed, Astral nodded.

"Yeah," she whispered, lowering her head. Her wings flapped slowly, casting shadows. The femme started for the door, waiting in the hallway for her leader. The lights went down; he shut the door. Astral walked by him, his presence enough for her. Their rooms came all too soon for the flier.

"Goodnight, Astral," purred the mech.

"Goodnight, Optimus." The medic shut out the world, diving onto her bed, squealing happily like a sparkling into her pillow to muffle the childish sound. She looked up at the quote on her wall, smiled, then clicked off the lights.

Just as she drifted off, she realized she hadn't taken the painkiller. And nothing hurt.

* * *

><p>The gray light of dawn broke over the horizon. Astral hovered over the dunes, wings rising and falling with a want to fly. A soft ache resided deep in her body. This was, however, not pain. Merely longing. Longing to see her Prime again. She wanted another night like last. A night where it was only the two of them, bodies so close it was intoxicating. But Astral craved more than that. She wanted him to <em>know <em>her, to accept her as she was, forgive the things she was, the things she had done. No amount of painkiller could replace what she felt, and yet she had still found it excruciatingly difficult to put the syringes back where they belonged. But that was the first step. Well, maybe not. Perhaps the first step was finding her anchor. Sand swirled beneath her as she thought of the long, hard road before her. She remembered the last time she had quit. There had been that week of intense pain. The itch for the drug had been the worst then. She had almost needed to chain herself to the surface of Cybertron to keep away from the painkillers. No one had been there to help her. Astral had screamed and sobbed into her pillow for hours on end. When she wasn't, horrible vomiting had seized her body as had nervous tremors. Astral remembered it all. She knew it would be less painful this time, for she had not been using the drug as long or as consistently, but it would still hurt. She almost wanted to tell someone, but who was there to tell? Bulkhead was merely on neutral territory with her. Arcee hated the ground she walked on. Astral didn't think she could stomach telling Optimus yet. That left Bumblebee and Ratchet. The latter seemed the better choice. He'd probably dealt with similar cases of addiction. He would know what to do.

Astral lowered herself back onto the desert floor, the tiny grains of sand parting to accompany her being. She watched the sun rise, its rays reaching out hungrily to seek the world below. Her shutters fell over her optics as the light greeted her and bathed her in warmth. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Her shutters parted again as she surveyed the eastern sky. It was not a rosy pink as it should have been, but it was a rich crimson. Tendrils of the deep red reached up to chase the purple sky and caress it. Was this meant for her? It certainly felt like it. She interpreted it as she saw it.

The crimson sky that came with the newborn sun was Optimus and the opportunity he brought with him: a fresh start. The purple was herself. Astral was clinging to her leader, escaping the blackness that was receding rapidly beneath her. The femme's smile became a wide grin. They were still there for her. They were proud she had given up the painkillers again. The femme rubbed her wrist affectionately, whispering their names. It helped, just as that mech had said it would. A piece of her grief lifted as the breath that carried her words left to rise into the sky.

Turning, Astral walked back to base. She did not want to fly home. Not this morning. It would ruin the stillness. Spark lighter, the Autobot jet strode back towards base, intending this time to keep her promise. Thoughts of those she'd promised flitted to the front of her processor until she stepped back into the main hangar. Only Ratchet and Bumblebee were up and moving. The flier joined the two, taking her ration and nursing the cube of energon while making idle conversation. Ratchet swished his energon around before downing the last of it. Bumblebee hummed his plans to find a gun she liked today. Her smile was genuine. Still no pain. Her concentration was better. Her fatigue was gone. Even her optics were brighter. The drugs were the farthest thing from her mind.

Optimus filled up the room when he walked in. The colors of his armor demanded attention. From the loud, bright red, to the subduing blue down to the flashy chrome. Nothing compared to him. Astral's intakes hitched, but she forced herself to remain calm even as his presence made her dizzy with elation.

"Were you able to fall back asleep?" he asked her, voice quiet with words meant for her alone.

Astral nodded, "Yeah. What about you?"

Prime blinked, optics dulling slightly. That was when Astral saw the shadows over his face. The mech's optics barely lit up enough to see what was in front of him. His shoulders were low. Astral's optic ridges met in worry. Pain began to work into her joints. "Optimus, why don't you ask for a sleep syrup?"

He shook his head. "I don't wish to become dependant on drugs. But thank you for your concern." His optics flickered weakly, and Astral swallowed, trying to work past the lump in her throat.

"No problem." His words had stung. There was no way he knew. He had not meant to hurt her. The Prime lifted his gaze and took his share of energon gratefully. He seemed to be starving, but he only took the same amount as the others. Astral had to keep herself from shaking her head at his selflessness. She would never do something like that. Did she feel ashamed? A bit. Astral put the useless thought aside for now. When no one else was looking, the jet dumped some of her energon in the Prime's cube. He needed it. She had had twice the usual amount yesterday to help replenish her body after having lost so much fluid the day before. The gesture made her pain ease, especially when Optimus shot her a mixed look of gratitude and embarrassment. He obviously wasn't used to bots noticing. Which raised the question: how _had _she noticed?

Bumblebee hummed, interrupting her thoughts. We should go ahead and start training.

"Alright." Astral tossed the rest of the energon down her throat, wiping her mouth on her arm. She disposed of the cube before following the young scout. He chirped and buzzed, saying that he had gotten another batch of firearms that Astral could try out. "Sounds good." In all honesty, she thought it wouldn't end well, but she kept her mouth closed. Bumblebee seemed proud that he had scraped up more weapons for her to try. He pushed his way into the training room. The table from yesterday held a completely new arsenal. Astral stepped over, optics devouring the site ravenously. These looked much more suited to her. Those blue-green orbs settling on one in particular. She picked it up and adapted it to her body and it took place of her hand for a moment. The second she did, she knew it wasn't right. It was too bulky. The femme put it to the left side of the table. She picked up another. This one had a sawed off barrel and was sleeker, lighter. She adapted to it. A nice fit. But the moment she shot it, she hated it. The gun kicked too much and nearly dented her helm when it reared back. She set it down hastily alongside the other.

This was how it went for the first half of the table. Gun after gun passed through Astral's slender talons. Something wasn't right about each one. The barrel was too long. It kicks too much. It refuses to steady. None of them were right. The femme was beginning to lose hope when her servo picked up a gun that sparked her interest. She examined it. It was a black gun with silver accents. The barrel was on the short side. It was very balanced. She adapted to it.

"Feels good," she mumbled, turning it over.

Bumblebee chirped. A semi-automatic, double-barrel EMP shotgun.

"Strong gun." She took aim and fired at the nearest target. It exploded and Astral had to duck and throw up her arm to shield herself from the airborne metal shards. She blinked, standing straight. The target was completely gone. Grinning widely, Astral aimed at another and shot. It, too, was obliterated by the blast. She reloaded and blew apart two more. She stowed away the smoking shotgun and looked over at Bumblebee. "I'm keeping it."

The canary yellow mech buzzed his happiness. He offered her the shotgun's twin, and she merged it with her other arm, eying it in admiration before stowing the weapon. She looked at Bumblebee. He chirped. Time for more grappling training. Astral ground her dentals. Joy.

* * *

><p>Noon had passed by the time Astral bopped into the main hangar. She was feeling good. A lot better than recently. Her optics gleamed, and her armor shimmered beneath the lights. She turned to watch Bumblebee follow her, chirping his praise. She still needed help in grappling, but she had improved greatly from yesterday. Arcee had never showed, making her day even better. She asked the mech questions about certain maneuvers, begging for tips to make the move easier or improve it. He offered all he could as fast as he could. Astral sat down, slipping the mech an energon sweet cut into a thin square. The young bot stopped speaking long enough to unhinge the guard along his jaw and face to cram the treat into his mouth and gobble it down without shame. Astral giggled, wiping blue crumbs off his face.<p>

"Thanks, 'Bee, for everything." She rubbed his helm affectionately. His doorwings flapped as he chirped. The femme grinned, leaning back. She rubbed the freshly repaired dents and scratches; she'd fixed them this morning before she had left to watch the sunrise. She radiated happiness, pleased with herself for leaving the drugs behind again and learning new skills. The Aerialbot medic knew how hard it was for most other bots to stray from the painkillers. Most of them never did, their deaths coming sooner than they should have. Astral had seen too many overdoses, mechs shot when trying to steal the drugs they craved, and sometimes the drugs damaged the processor so severely that they fell apart, throwing themselves into oblivion. The jet was haunted by these memories. Without the drugs, in one day, she had found the gun that fit her personality, grown closer to Bumblebee and discovered that part of her was…nice. Smiling, Astral continued to share the sweets with the younger mech, exchanging small bits of conversation with him.

"Things sound chipper over here," commented Ratchet, walking over and snatching a piece of the energon treat from Astral's hand. She narrowed her optics at him as he ate it.

"Sure, you can have some," she muttered.

"Why, thank you!" The medic took another square. Astral sighed, rubbing her helm. "Get used to it, jet, you're going to be putting up with me for a long time."

The flier frowned, "No need to sound so smug about it."

"Oh, yes there is." Ratchet smirked and sashayed away. Both young bots shook their heads and ignored the mech. Bumblebee swung his legs, looking even smaller when he did so. As she watched him in silence, Astral couldn't help but think of the scout like a younger sibling. He was so sweet; it was impossible to resist his brotherly nature. The femme turned to catch sight of Ratchet cleaning his tools and was startled to how much he reminded her of Ironhide. The two mechs were nearly identical in nature. She smiled weakly at the thought of her commanding officer. Watching Ratchet made thoughts of him sharper, clearer and more painful. Pushing away the uncertainty that threatened to drown her, she felt more at home than before when she gave the two mechs places in her life. Maybe this would be easier than she thought. Astral put away the remainder of the energon treats, despite Bumblebee's protests.

"I don't have much left," she rationalized, wiping her chin to signal Bumblebee should do the same. The mech brushed off the crumbs and energon stain. He whirred, doorwings twitching unhappily. Astral rolled her optics good-naturedly.

The femme sank into her thoughts. Images of her once beautiful family dominated her CPU. Two pairs of lovely optics, one bluer than the skies hanging over her and one as red as molten rubies, gazed at her. She could almost reach for the smiling mechs, but she knew that they were lost to her. Well…the mechs she had known were lost. Her gaze found the names inset on her wrist. Biting back a sigh, Astral lifted her helm. Lost.

* * *

><p>Nightmares <em>did <em>trouble the Autobot surgeon that night. The moon was hidden by heavy clouds and before long rain poured down over the desert, giving it relief. Astral, however, suffered in her sleep, tossing and turning as lightning illuminated the scene. Lips parted in horrible whimpers and cries of agony, the jet dug her claws into her palms, unaware she was breaking through the plating and causing injury. Tears dripped down her face. Thunder shook the base. Nothing could rouse her.

Within her sleep, Astral was seeing it all over again. The plume of smoke from the research tower. Flames licking up from the foundation as it crumbled. She howled for them, knowing they would never hear her again. Sobs wracked her dream-self's frame. The scene was consumed by smoke and became something else, something worse. They were forced to their knees, hands bound behind their backs and heads bowed. The pair of blue visors glinted defiantly even as the whip cracked on their shoulders. Energon immediately welled in the marks.

"Don't cry out, Prowler," whispered the white mech. "I know ya want ta, but don't. It'll be alright. I swear it will."

The black and gold mech's shoulders trembled. It was all the emaciated bot could do to keep from screaming when the next lash cut into his back.

"It's alright, Prowl, I'm right here. I'm here, baby." The whip sailed through the air and caught the speaker's neck. He made a sound like a kicked animal and fell, helm bouncing off the cold floor.

"Jazz! Jazz!" shrieked the mech called Prowl. "Jazz! Get up!" He screamed when he was hit again. "Please! Get up, get up! Please! _Jazz!" _Horrible caterwauls left Prowl's throat as his mate lay unconscious on the floor, and his own back continued to be whipped.

Astral was the one who held the whip. She reared back and hit Prowl; even Jazz's motionless body could not escape her. She willed herself to stop beating the mechs that had cared for her after the explosion. But she couldn't. Each lash brought more blood, more squeals of pain and pleas for mercy.

Astral's shutters squeezed tight over her optics, but she was aware she was awake. Someone was near, their warmth spreading over her own cold, shivering frame. Tears soaked the pillow beneath her helm. Condensation slicked her angled armor, the echoes of Prowl's screams still pounding against her audio. Whimpering, Astral bared her dentals, body aching with terror. Fingers swirled over her wings in relaxing motions. Her intakes were hitched. She could not turn to see the mech that was so close to her. Through the fog of fear, she realized she hadn't locked her door before falling asleep. Had she even shut the door?

Her frame was covered with another's. Her shutters fell over her optics. She didn't want to see him. Not yet. His hands stroked her body, easing her pain. Her sobs became helpless sniffles; her shivering reduced to intermittent trembles. The mech righted himself. Astral mewled, reaching out in the darkness for him, fearing he was leaving. His servo fell over hers, and he locked their fingers together. She blinked, her blue-green gaze trained on the wall she faced. Her Spark beat rhythmically in her chest, wanting this mech, this dark protector to stay by her side and keep away the nightmares she knew loomed close.

"Don't leave," she begged in a whisper.

He responded by using his free hand to caress her helm.

Astral didn't know how long she laid there, holding his hand, allowing him to stroke and soothe her body, chasing the demons away. All she knew was that this felt right. The time she was spending with the shadowy mech was like coming home. She wished she could see the quote on her wall, and the mech that held her so lovingly. Her optics were half-closed with contentment. Everything settled perfectly into place. Shards of moonlight broke through the rain, giving the room a silvery glow that further calmed Astral. The rain on the window caused soft disruptions in the glass and when their partial shadows hit the floor they looked like tiny pearls. Astral smiled feebly, letting herself be lost in the rolls of thunder and the movement's of the mech's servos. His touch seemed to grow lighter, his hold on her hand weaker. Astral clutched it again, forcing herself awake to immerse herself in the comfort. The femme tried to mutter something to her dark knight, but no thoughts came out logically. His thumb ran over her knuckles, and his other hand massaged her wings, lulling every sensor.

Without warning, the figure that comforted her swept her up and pressed his lips against hers. Astral's body was limp in his hold. Her optics remained closed as she found the strength to return the kiss. Her arms wound around his neck slowly, but her hold was not very strong. The nightmares had taken out all of her strength, her fight. Her Spark thudded unevenly, all thoughts of her nightmares forgotten as she accepted his affection. His servos still moved along her wings and body. She never wanted this moment to end. And for a long time it didn't. They stayed locked together, not knowing what this would become, how this would end.

Astral was slowly lowered onto her back. The mech's lips relinquished hers with great reluctance. She exhaled heavily, happily. Exhaustion crept up on her, closing in on her without warning until her shutters felt like buildings. She mumbled, hand lifting to find the blurry mech's face. He seemed to understand her garbled stream of sound as he laid beside her. Chirping dully, Astral curled up against his chest, his arms wrapping around her waist.

Finally she managed to string together a thought, "Thank…you," she breathed with great effort. The mech nuzzled her helm, causing a smile to toy at her lips just before she fell into a nightmare-free sleep. When morning came, Astral was alone in her bed, but the unknown mech's spot was still warm. She smiled, running her palm over the depression his body had left. A datapad on the side table caught her attention. Intrigued, she reached over and looked at the note scrawled on the screen.

_Training canceled. Relax today. You're going to need it._

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><p><em>READ AND REVIEW<em>


	3. Don't Know What You Got Til It's Gone

**Summary: **Astral is in for a hell of a day...and night.

**Pairings: **Mentioned Skyfire/Starscream

**Warnings: **Withdrawal, violence.

**Rating: **T

**Notes: **I lied. This chapter is mah favorite. :D Please READ AND REVIEW OR GET OFF THIS DAMN PAGE! Thank you.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Transformers. I own only Astral.

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><p>The morning was slow, and it welcomed a hazy Astral. Her wings caused slipstreams for they were moving so fast. The datapad in her hands gave her everything she needed to know. Rain still tumbled over the roof of base, but Astral ignored the soothing sound. The mech…he had left her this. He could be any of the mechs on base. Every one of them had the clearance to waive her training, except, perhaps, for Bulkhead as he was neither her trainer nor superior. Thumbing the screen of the datapad, Astral's processor was screaming for a real answer. She closed her optics, thinking back to the unknown bot who had brought her so much relief. It felt like his hands were melting away her fears all over again, never saying a word, bringing only warmth and security. The intimacy of the actions had been dulled in her terror last night, but in the light of late morning the depth of tenderness reached a level the Autobot flier had never known. The Aerialbot pulled the datapad against her chest, clinging desperately to the only piece of her protector she had. He had never been so far away. Rubbing her jaw over the frame, she sighed before setting it down. Frustration pricked at her systems as she stood and walked over to the pod Bulkhead and Bumblebee had retrieved from the territory of Saskatchewan. Astral still wasn't sure where that was. Her training so far had not involved the study of the planet she had crashed into by mistake.<p>

The surgeon sifted through it, finding her sheets and thermal blanket. It was the last gift from her fathers. She buried her face in it and inhaled. It still smelled like them. Smiling sadly, she stood and crossed her room again, laying the blanket on first, then placing the silky ivory sheets over it. Her fingers trailed over their natural perfection before leaving. She knelt by the pod, digging out book after book. Some were medical books others were history. Her inventory, however, consisted mostly of fiction. They were stories about how their race would be faring in the distant future. Would they be extinct? Would they be flourishing just as they were in the Golden Age? A lot of them were stories of the Transformers' evolution. The race would end up acquiring modes that resembled more primitive beings. Beast modes, if you will. Others expected a smaller branch of Transformers to arise that would enable a larger bot to tap into their abilities and become more powerful. Each of these had forms of Optimus Prime in them fighting forms of Megatron. Astral smiled, shelving the books in no particular order. Her optics caught the glint of white frame. She reached down among the last of her books and pulled out a photo. She smiled weakly, having forgotten she had taken the picture with her. Her own optics were staring at her, wings broad and stretching across the scene. She stood with two taller mechs, one slender as she was and another with the same magnificent wingspan and posture as her. They stood with her. It was picturesque, but Astral remembered the day, and its meaning, well.

_Dark clouds reached across the sky. Cybertron's sun was setting and had turned the horizon a dark red. Astral's optics flicked over the span of the approaching storm. Her wings sliced the air with untold anxiety. What if this went wrong? Would they be able to move fast enough before her wings were torn off her back?_

_A hand rested on her shoulder. She turned to look into those knowing ruby optics. Her father had never been a particularly brave mech. It was not uncommon for the brilliant flier to be called a coward. She placed her right hand over his, her left shoulder still as she looked over it at the bot that had sparked her. He nodded._

"_You'll do fine, Astral," murmured the other mech, his servo brushing over her wing. "There is nothing to worry about."_

"_I wish." The femme searched the sky for answers. In mere minutes this would become her domain. Her turbines burned with anticipation. Generations of jets had done the dance before her. This was heaven's way of picking the strongest fliers. She could not escape her first flight. This flight would be without the use of an alternate mode, to determine if she could handle the skies on her own. It was a primitive practice, but it had never died._

"_Just remember," purred the silver mech, crimson orbs focused on the nearing storm systems as well. "Find the rhythm. Slip into the beat the wind has set. Nothing will be easier once you do."_

_Astral bit her lip, nervousness clouding her own optics. A whistle sounded. The Aerialbot's body soared into the air on command, wings catching the wind. She panicked at first, the frail strength of the breeze she'd felt below replaced by a howling gale. Spark beating wildly, Astral tried to find a rhythm. The wind was tossing her around to some unheard song. A slow beat, but an angry beat. Her thrusters helped steady her out as her wings found the motions. She instantly stilled, no longer being thrown. Grinning, she climbed higher, dropping down in a rapid corkscrew as the dance had always begun. She found a partner. His face was painted with excitement as she was sure hers was. They twirled and dipped, flipped and rolled. The dance of the first flight wove into Astral forever. She had survived the skies. Now they were soul mates. Nothing could part the jet and the heavens._

Astral placed the picture frame on her shelf. She hadn't yet assembled the desk that Bulkhead had hauled out of storage. When she did, she would set the family photo there. She sorted through the rest of her things, putting books away, filing datapads full of her own writing and personal recollections, placing more pictures. The femme was glad when the pod was finally empty. She kicked it into the pile of junk that needed to be taken out soon. Her wings twitched, the room feeling more like home the more she stayed inside. The jet sighed. Her body ached, and she knew that her symptoms were beginning. Dread washed over her, and she felt the suffocating need to walk. She pushed her way out of her room, heading for the main hangar. The humans and their corresponding guardians were spread around the room. Ratchet was busy clicking away on one of the keyboards, and Optimus was overseeing him. Everyone had a partner. Astral was the only one without. Wings falling a bit at the thought, the Aerialbot took her ration of energon and decided against trying to join one of the pairs, instead she drank her energon soundlessly as she watched them gather around another screen while Optimus and Ratchet stayed centered around theirs. Cries of frustration and victory came from the three guardians and humans. Curiosity rose in her Spark, wings even twitching eagerly. Astral received a hard stare from Arcee; all hopes of seeing what they were doing were crushed instantly. She finished her cube and disposed of the glass.

"Well now, who are you?"

Startled by the proximity of the unknown voice, Astral whipped around, stumbling back. She gripped the wall, spotting a dark colored human. He had an exceptionally large middle. His gaze was scrutinizing, but it was not unfriendly. There was an air of superiority about this human. The adult carried himself high; he was very proud.

"Agent Fowler," cut in Optimus Prime, voice authoritative yet gentle. "This is Astral. She is an Autobot reconstructive surgeon and is training as a soldier."

The jet stood up straight, refusing to be deemed inferior by this tiny flesh creature. "I am an Aerialbot. Now I might ask you the same question." Her voice was scalding, not bothering to hide her irritation with the human male.

"Agent William Fowler. I work with the government, Astral. I serve as a liaison between the Autobot team and the humans that run this country. We work together to rid my planet of Decepticons." His tone, too, was bitter. "Got that so far?"

"I keep up fairly well, thank you, Agent Fowler."

Fowler smirked. "I like her."

Astral folded her arms, finding him to her liking as well. He was certainly not unlike her. They both felt as though they resided above the others naturally, though they know they should not. This, however, does not stop them. They may have even had similar home lives. She smiled a bit, optics twinkling.

"However, I'll have to tell the boys about her. She'll need to gain clearance."

"What?" Astral bristled, grinding her dentals as her wings rose up to cast dangerous shadows over her face and the agent. Her optics smoldered with unchecked, uncharacteristic rage. She was the best, possibly the last, reconstructive surgeon the Autobots had, and she was learning to kill. Was that not enough for these meager humans? Her servos lashed out to grip the bars on the panels Fowler stood on, squeezing them until the metal became warped. She looked like a rabid animal. He took a step back. "You mean to tell me I have to have _permission _to stay on this rock?"

"Astral…" warned Ratchet.

The Aerialbot turned her head to glare sharply at him. She trained her enraged stare back on the puny creature before her. It would be so easy to turn him into a grease spot on the panels.

"With that attitude, looks like you'll be out of here very soon."

Snarling, it was all Astral could do to hold back. Some part of her spoke up. _It's the effects from recovery. The rage will only worsen if you fuel it._

The femme's shoulders gradually lowered. Her wings fluttered. Energy drained from her, and Astral felt that blinding pain start in the pit of her fueling tanks. Oh Primus, not now. Not in front of everyone. Whirling around, she stormed out. The flier ignored the calls of her Prime, of Agent Fowler. Right now she needed to get away from the world. Breaking into a run, Astral gasped as she reached her door, yanking it open and slamming it. She dove for her berth and stuffed the corner of her pillow into her mouth. The unseen fire raced through her main energon veins. She screamed and sobbed. She sent a message to Ratchet, telling him to come alone and tell no one; the door was unlocked. Body engulfed in flames, Astral howled into the fabric, condensation beading on her forehead and spreading along her body. Before she knew it she was drenched as was her bed. Her body was shaking uncontrollably. Biting the pillow, she screamed again, unable to bear the effects the painkillers were still having. She wanted so badly to run for them, make this suffering stop.

"Astral! What the-!"

Ratchet was there in an instant, checking her core temperature and her vitals. Astral was crying into her bed.

"R-Ratch…" she hiccupped before shouting into the pillow again. "Painkiller withdrawal…addict…" Sobs overcame her body as a fresh fire swept through her, silencing her for the rest of the suffering.

Ratchet swore. He watched her convulsing body with only slight pity. "There is no medication for this."

Astral's hands clenched into fists as she wailed again. She curled up helplessly, one servo reaching out to him. Ratchet understood and rubbed her shoulder. Tears cut across her smoky gray face. She whimpered during a break between waves.

"Help me," she begged.

The medic nodded, "I will." He rubbed her shoulder blades, working his fingers beneath her armor to soothe her body. "I can get you something to help you purge yourself of the after-toxins the cyritomin produces. That's what causes this."

The Aerialbot nodded vigorously. "Please."

Nodding as well, the orange and white mech left the room hurriedly. Astral sobbed, hating the painkillers. She hated that rose-colored liquid. She hated that she hadn't been able to stay away. She hated everything to do with it. Despite all the loathing she felt for the drugs and herself, the jet was relieved Ratchet had agreed to help. The Autobot surgeon needed what she could get. Yowling into her pillow again, her frame shuddered. The young bot moaned, swearing to herself that she would never pick up a needle of cyritomin again.

"Here." Ratchet was back. She hadn't heard him come in. Then again, how would she be able to with all the noise she was making? A needle broke into her thoughts. It slipped into her side. The femme caught a flash of the yellow liquid as he injected her with it. Her tanks began to roll nanokliks after she was filled with it. "I got something right here. Easy." Ratchet pushed a sort-of barrel towards her. Astral gripped the edges of the bin, frame rocking with heaves. Finally, the energon she'd just consumed rushed back out, splattering on the bottom of the container. Whining softly, the femme shook as more heaves rolled her forward. Her mouth parted, and dark red fluid came up, flecked with green. "Ahhh, there we go. We're getting out the after-toxins now." Ratchet rubbed her back gingerly, though he was still rough on the weak femme. "C'mon girl, get it out."

Astral heaved, vomiting more of the tainted liquid. Face buried in the bin, the jet was sweating to the point where the condensation was rolling off her body in waves. Teeth chattering and fragile body shivering, the femme could not stop vomiting. It seemed the toxins refused to completely leave her body. Sickly noises rose from her with each new splash of tainted bile. The other medic murmured soft praise as she continued to throw up the liquids. The dark red toxins dribbled down her chin, but Astral could not find the strength to wipe it away. Ratchet dabbed at it with a cloth, snatching it away when the jet vomited again. Tears continued to run down her face. Moving quickly, Ratchet swapped the barrels out, offering her a fresh one. The flier clung to the new bin, shoulders shaking violently as her vigor left her body with each heave.

Finally after what felt like half the day, Astral could force nothing else up. By now she couldn't even manage to hold onto the barrel. Sniffling, the Aerialbot's arms fell away from the bin, and she curled up on her bed. The femme shivered, body no longer covered in a film on condensation or dangerously hot. She looked small, afraid. Grumbling softly, Ratchet rubbed her helm awkwardly before dragging the blanket and sheets over her.

"Thank you," she whispered. The mech smiled.

"I'll let you get some rest. You should be able to function again by tonight." Ratchet looked up, seeing rain slide off the one-way window. He sighed his annoyance. "I hate storms." The medic left, clicking off the lights and shutting her door. Lying in her bed alone, Astral blinked, fixing her gaze on the ceiling. The tears stopped falling, but she still felt the dull ache in her joints. Astral's frame shook with exhaustion and hunger. She wished she could have at least one cube of energon, though she felt like she could down the entire stock. The femme shifted, laying on her side with her wings pushed so they were parallel to one another. The position was not uncomfortable, for they usually moved freely on their own any way and bent as they wished. Shutting her optics, the femme's intakes slowed as she drifted into recharge.

Astral dreamt of last night. The mech was back, rubbing her armor down, his presence enough to scatter her nightmares. She begged him to tell her his name. He offered no answer, only running his fingers over her delicate wings and trailing his lips over hers. Silencing her with a kiss, her dark knight swirled patterns on her body. No, not patterns, she realized. Cybertronian. He was spelling something. His name maybe? The femme tried to make sense of the letters, but she had realized it too late. He was laying her down, allowing her to curl up against his chest. She was rapidly losing him to recharge. She tried to fight it, tried to fight…

Reality broke apart her dream. Astral laid still, hoping that maybe she would fall back asleep and be able to interpret the letters. The flier's fueling tanks growled their adamant protest, and, reluctantly, she got up. Stretching, the Aerialbot femme strode down the hall, feeling lightheaded, but generally better. Her heels clicked against the floor of the main hangar. Sighing softly when she saw no one, Astral took two cubes, feeling a bit shameful that she needed so much. Nevertheless, it did not stop her from lapping up every bit of energon. Trashing the glass cubes, she wiped her lips. The main hangar seemed too large for just her. The jet moved her hips to a song only she knew. Her lips formed the words, but no sound left her vocaliser. Scrunching up her face, the femme realized she was totally alone in the base. A smirk crawled over her faceplates; this was the most opportune time. Astral raced back down the hall she had just come from. She stopped at the closed door and tried to open it. Locked. Swearing, Astral glanced in her own room before stepping into Ratchet's. She gazed at some of the photos on the wall that could not be seen from the hallway. Ironhide. He was everywhere. Sometimes with Ratchet, other times he was alone.

"Oh, Primus…" she whispered. That was why they were so alike. They were bonded. Holy fragging Primus! How had she not seen it? Shaking her head, Astral left the medic's room and entered Bumblebee's, scrolling through his music selection. He had good taste. Growing bored, Astral didn't even bother to enter Bulkhead's. Instead, she went straight for Arcee's. Her optics were instantly on the shrine. Pictures of the two mechs made a lump rise in her throat. She'd known them. She touched the pictures of Tailgate. "Scrap, I miss you." Tears gathered in her optics. "You were such a slagging _pain _sometimes but…" She sighed. "She's still mad at us, well, me. She won't forgive me. Then again, she never forgives anyone." Laughing a hollow, meaningless laugh, Astral gazed into those azure optics that weren't looking back. "If you're listening, 'Gate, just tell her somehow that I'm sorry, that I miss having her as a friend. She probably won't care…" She paused to suck in a heavy intake. Her breathing was ragged with sorrow unmatched by anything in the world. She sank to her knees and sobbed into her palms. She was so sick of crying, but memories of Tailgate forced her hand. Astral bit her lip and calmed down. "I miss you, Tailgate," she repeated. Her servos cradled a photo. "Wait for me?"

Picking herself up, Astral turned to face the photos of Cliffjumper. He was gone, too, but Astral had no words for him. All she did was touch her fingertips to one of his pictures, trailing them over his helm before turning and leaving. Wiping her optics, Astral whispered Tailgate's name again, and she looked at her wrist. Another name to add.

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><p>Dark was falling on Astral's third full day at base. Bulkhead, Bumblebee, Arcee and their respective human companions were in the main hangar. Ratchet, too, was located in center of base, sitting alone in a corner as he cleaned his medical tools and hummed a song from his sparkling years. The Prime, however, had retreated to his room, the door shut and locked. There was a general good mood hovering over headquarters. The humans were busying themselves with their racing game. Their guardians watched, placing bets on who would win. Ratchet would fuss at them, saying they were being too loud.<p>

And Astral was training.

She spun, blades reaching out to tear through the targets that surrounded her currently. She bared her dentals; her grip tightened on the dagger in her right hand. Astral tackled an untouched dummy and drew her blade over his throat. The jet sheathed her knives, and she transformed her hands into her double-barrel EMP shotguns. She held her arms apart and blasted two separate targets, causing them to explode. Two more fell by her hands. Ashes flitted around the room, falling like the snow from up north that Astral so hated. The Aerialbot pumped her shotguns, smoke escaping from the open spaces when the rounds were expelled. She smiled. She was impressed with herself. Two days of intensive training had greatly improved her skills. Training under Arcee and Bumblebee hadn't exactly been easy. Both bots had pushed her until she thought she would fall apart. But she hadn't, and now she fought like a soldier instead of a slimy street rat. Stowing her weapons, Astral looked at the damage. Four Decepticons dead from her spinning attack, one from an assassination, and four from her guns. Nine total. That was an improvement from yesterday. Despite her progress, Arcee still refused to acknowledge her with anything except loathing.

"I don't care how good she is," she'd spat at Bumblebee. "She's still just a dirty 'Con jet! No Autobot takes to the air like a filthy _coward!" _She'd stormed out after Bumblebee had yelled at her for calling her a Decepticon, defending Astral.

The Autobot flier had been used to threats against her, taunts of _'Decepticon' _and _'disgusting jet' _or even _'wingless coward.' _Arcee was no different from a lot of grounders. However, she had a reason to call her such names. That was what rattled Astral. Not that she was saying them, but that she had a decent excuse.

A soft chirp at the door drew the jet's attention to the doorway. Bumblebee strode in, big blue optics kind and almost pitifully innocent.

"Hey, 'Bee." Astral smiled at him. "Why aren't you out front with Raf and the rest?"

The yellow mech responded, his mechanical buzzes smug. Why aren't _you _out with everyone?

"Heh, good one. You know exactly why I'm not. Arcee would gnaw my wings off herself. She has made it perfectly clear that I am to keep away." Astral's wings were tense after the remark she'd made. The thought sent pain through her body.

Bumblebee whirred quietly, energon pooling beneath the soft dermaplating on his face. I just wish she'd leave you alone. Raf wants to get to know you better and so do I.

"Aww, glad to hear I've got another bot on my side, 'Bee."

The scout's doorwings flapped happily. Suddenly, they stilled; he let out a long stream of sound. Tell me about your life. Please?

"My life?" she echoed. She hardly contained her surprise. "Well…what do you want to know?"

Bumblebee hummed and spread his hands. Everything.

Astral sat down, folding her legs. Bumblebee sat across from her, tapping the ground with his fingertips.

"Well, I was sparked in an upper class family. My creators, both mechs, worked a lot. Skyfire spent his time researching cures to viruses and exploring other parts of the scientific field. My father, the one who sparked me, was the leader of a group of energon seekers."

Bumblebee, interjecting to ask why she didn't use her Spark-father's name.

"Too hard. I loved them both, but I adored him. I was close to Skyfire but not like I was with my father. See, they both died when he delivered energon to Skyfire's lad, and Soundwave bombed the place. He took his work. Murdered my father's team. No one made it out alive. The bodies that were still in one piece were too charred to identify."

The young mech mewled softly, his doorwings falling.

"Yeah. I was a wreck for a long time. But I started living with some old friends. Jazz and his mate, Prowl. They were middle class, so they had to work three times as hard as my fathers to put me through medical school."

The scout put up his hand. Wait, you didn't get a scholarship?

"Yes, I did. Put I had to pay to go the extra few vorns to become a reconstructive surgeon. It wasn't an easy school, either."

Bumblebee whirred, making hand movements.

"Well, Prowl and Jazz were ninjabots. They had learned Circuit-Su and Metallikato. They both loved music, though Jazz appreciated it more when it was loud which got on Prowl's nerves." She smiled fondly. "They both wore visors."

Why? Bumblebee chirped.

"Can't say. I was never supposed to tell." The jet rubbed her knuckles. "They owned a nice house on the outskirts of Iacon. It was very open, lots of windows. Prowl was fascinated with other planets, especially ones that had organics so he used to keep a huge garden behind the house that I helped to keep up. Prowl was a police officer in Praxus at night and worked other jobs during the day when he could. Jazz was a Circuit-Su instructor. When the war kicked in, they both volunteered. I don't know what happened to them." Astral thought back to her nightmare and prayed desperately to Primus that it wasn't true.

Whirring, Bumblebee gazed intently at her. Did you have many friends in school?

"Friends…" Astral stopped, thinking. "I had a few. No one wanted to talk to me. I was…" Astral stumbled a bit on her words. "An Autobot jet." She swallowed hard. That was almost really bad.

Another thread of sound was woven from Bumblebee's vocoder. You listen to a lot of music?

"Not really. Music wasn't as important when I was younger. I didn't listen to it much until after Soundwave blew apart the research tower. I started needing it to sleep." _Until I found painkillers, _she thought sourly. Astral looked down, running her fingertips over her servo. "I still have nightmares about it. I used to try sleep syrups. They don't help." Her blue-green optics settled on her crossed legs. A sigh left her; her wings lowered, unhurried.

Bumblebee tapped her knee; she looked up. The young Autobot whirred. Want to hear my story?

Astral nodded. Bumblebee perked up.

I lived in a middle class family. My creators were factory workers in Crystal City. I didn't see much of them at all. They were killed in an accident. The machines had malfunctioned. I bounced from home to home. I was a troublemaker as a sparkling. Heh, still am I guess. Bumblebee rubbed the back of his neck.

Astral grinned, optics flickering.

I wasn't very good in school. I mean, I was average, but not amazing. It was alright, because I had a lot of friends. My best friend was a bot called Wasp. The mech's doorwings flicked happily. We pulled the best pranks in school. We kept it up even after we joined the cause…

"What happened?" asked the medic, enthralled.

He was assigned to a different unit, chirped Bumblebee. I haven't seen him in vorns.

"Do you know if he's still online?"

Bumblebee shook his head. Not for sure.

Astral laid a comforting servo on the young bot's arm. Her optics were warm, inviting and empathetic. The mech gazed back at her, large blue orbs a bit wistful. He finally buzzed.

"Yes, 'Bee, I consider you my friend," she murmured, knowing that he was only asking because no matter how many bots he counted as friends, none of them were Wasp. But it didn't hurt to try to gather as many replacements as he could. Her talons clicked on his armor. "Can I ask you something?" He nodded. "Were you and Wasp…lovers?"

The grounder hummed, face both lighting up and turning red at the thought.

"Ah, so you were." Astral grinned, but she went silent for the moment, thinking. What she was plotting was dangerous, but it could work. "Hey, I'm going to go on a flight. Don't wait up, 'kay?"

The sports car nodded. Astral rubbed his helm as she stood and left. The femme went down the hall to her Prime's room and tapped her knuckles on the door. It opened; he filled up the doorway, and she felt small and insignificant and giddy all at once. Her Spark pounded loudly in her chassis. Tanks churning, she said, "I'm going for a flight. I just wanted to let you know."

"Thank you, Astral. That was very considerate."

"No problem." The jet pivoted and started down the hall.

"Astral…be careful."

Her wings tensed. She looked over her shoulder, seeing his optics gazing at her softly. "I will, Prime." He closed the door. She brushed off her armor as she walked toward the tunnel. She kicked off the floor and transformed, thundering through the tunnel. The air was split apart as Astral grew adjusted to the slight rain and humid air. Jasper, Nevada disappeared beneath her as she headed east. Her scanners were picking up Vehicons in the neighboring state of Arizona. Perhaps they would know. Screaming through the air, the energy signatures were growing stronger. In no time they were beneath her. She transformed, lightning illuminating her freefall. She dropped on the sand, sending shockwaves through the ground. Her blades glinting in the moonlight, she rushed forward and buried the dagger up to its hilt in one of their sides. Her optics were wild, and she hardly heard herself ask for the information she craved.

"Is the mech Wasp in Decepticon possession?" she asked through gritted dentals.

The mech stammered, choking on his words that he didn't know. She spilled his internals on the ground. He fell. Freeing one hand of a blade, she transformed it into a shotgun.

"Do any of you know?" she spat. "C'mon! Give me what I want!"

"I've never heard the name!" swore another. She blew his chest to bits, his Spark fading rapidly in the scattered light of the moon. Rain still fell.

"What about you?" she asked, pointing her shotgun at him. "Do you know? Don't play with me, either, Decepticon."

He stood still. "I don't know."

"Mm, wrong answer," she purred sweetly. She fired. His head was gone. The body collapsed. There was one more in the shadows. "And you? What do you have to offer me? What do you know of the mech Wasp?"

"Heh, I don't think you'll care."

Astral froze. That voice. No, that wasn't possible. No, no, no. The mech stepped out of the shadows, wings moving slowly. Beads of rain rolled over the silver armor. Those ruby optics stared at her disbelieving blue optics. He smirked, a trait she used to love.

"Surprised? Did your commander not keep you in the loop?" His smirk became a grin. "Oh, yes, I've been alive this entire time. That flashy show at the research facility was merely to coerce me."

"But Skyfire…"

"That was the way. He was killed, as was my team. They weakened me. Megatron is a very persuasive mech."

The Aerialbot let out a short intake. Her wings moved constantly, unable to remain still. Thunder rumbled. He came closer. She transformed her EMP shotgun back into her hand. She sheathed her dagger.

"Oh, not going to ask me again? Pity, because I happen to know a little more than they did." He gestured to the broken mechs as their energon continued to flow out of their bodies and soak into the sand.

"Starscream. Starscream."

"Yes, that is my designation. Though last time I saw you, you called me something else…what was it?"

"You were supposed to be dead." She held her helm tightly, intakes short and heavy. "No, you were _dead!"_

"I refuse to roll over and die for anyone," murmured the Decepticon jet. He turned his head, staring at her optics. "Hmm, you seem to have made a cosmetic change. Were you not proud of me?"

Numb, Astral reached up with one servo and clawed at her optic with precision. Something round and convexed dropped onto her palm. She did the same to the other optic, looking down at her hands.

"Let me see." Starscream's gaze was ravenous, wanting to see something he hadn't laid eyes on for half of his miserable existence.

The flier lifted her helm, optics glowing red and washing the misty rain in blood as she clenched the lenses in her servos. Her wings were raised high over her head; shadows fell just right so that only half of her face was concealed in darkness.

"You've no idea how much I've missed those optics." Starscream strode over, one hand resting on the back of her neck. She pressed her forehead to his, her hand finding her father's neck as their matching ruby optics closed. Tears rolled down the femme's face, able to cry without fear of the lenses falling out. "I love you," he whispered, dentals bared as he fought the wave of emotions he thought he'd never feel again.

"I love you, too," she choked, more sobs wracking her frame. She hadn't cried this much in vorns. In fact, the last time she had cried like this was when she was young, and she had thought Skyfire and Starscream were dead. Astral couldn't believe she was with him again. She opened her optics and found his staring back at her, glazed with unshed tears. Her Spark was practically singing with happiness. "I've missed you, Star."

The Decepticon smiled, though Astral didn't realize what a rare sight that was. To her, it was just a long forgotten memory that she had failed to remember until now. Astral grinned, the flow of tears stopping and becoming mixed with the rain still on her body. He trailed his talons over her face.

"You look so much like him," murmured Starscream. The storm had ceased and rays of white light broke through the clouds, washing the pair in silver. The Seeker saw Skyfire's wings that had drawn him in, saw his smile, saw even the way he stood. That temper he knew she had was his, as were her optics. But the resemblances stopped there. Astral was her own femme. The Autobot symbols caught the light, and they reminded Starscream that they were still worlds apart. "He'd be proud of you."

Astral brightened, the names on her wrist were far away. Her smile seemed to disperse the clouds above them, offering a clearer sky. "You know then?"

Starscream nodded, smiling wider. "I kept up until I lost track of you after the evacuation of Cybertron." He gazed into her optics lovingly. "It's nice to see you alive."

She tucked her helm under his chin. "Mm." A thought dawned on her processor. "You said you knew about Wasp. What, exactly?"

"I remember we took down his unit on a planet called Kronan. He managed to commandeer one of our star cruisers and escape with his life. To our knowledge, he is functioning. The rest of his unit was not so fortunate." Starscream rubbed his jaw over her temple in a gesture of affection. Astral purred softly, hearing only the words 'he is functioning' as she reveled in this moment. "Astral, Megatron would welcome you. You would be considered invaluable to the Decepticons."

Astral thought of the mystery mech, of Prime, of the Decepticons she so loathed. Surely her father was not like them? "But…the Autobots…"

"They are weak," he whispered, words ghosting over her audio. "We could crush them. We have numbers. With you on our side we could not lose, my sparkling."

Confusion clouded her optics. "Skyfire was an Autobot." She was distraught. Had he turned on his mate's race so easily?

"The Autobots did not protect Skyfire!" he spat, rage boiling in his lithe frame.

"They did all they could, the bombing was not foreseeable!" she countered, yanking away from him. "Why would you abandon the race that gave you Skyfire? The mech that gave you his _Spark_ swore himself to their cause! Why would you dishonor that promise? The Decepticons _murdered_ him! You joined a gang of _cowards! _Even now you hide behind your soldiers, allow them to take your shots!" She flung her arm out to gesture to the dead Vehicons. Her temper flared. Anger burned in her veins. "You've stabbed Skyfire in the back by doing this! How can you say you loved him when you go home to the mechs that slaughtered him _and _your trine?" Her voice continued to rise until she was screaming. "Their blood is on _your _hands, Starscream! You may has well have handed him the bomb that killed him!"

"_You are out of line!" _he screeched, rearing back and tearing his talons into her face. Yelping, Astral staggered, hand flying up to her left cheek. Energon leaked between her fingers. Optics wide, Astral slipped her lenses back in. Her naturally blood-red optics returned to their Autobot blue-green. Fear caused her to stumble back, away from her father. Her energon dripped from the tips of his lethal claws. Fleeing, Astral transformed and shot away. No, no, no. Starscream never hurt her, never laid an angry servo on her. But this Starscream was different, corrupted. To him, she was the enemy, not his daughter, not his mate's child, not the young femme he had sparked. She was nothing. She was as good as dead to him. Astral had been right when she'd told Bumblebee her fathers were dead. The Starscream she had known had died the night the bombs had been dropped. This Starscream was something evil. Something sinister. Something…alien.

Astral became estranged from time. She was aware she was back in Nevada, close to base. She transformed and landed on the sand. Her face burned from Starscream's claws. The femme wiped away the blood, feeling three distinct marks. Astral couldn't find the strength to weep for her lost father. She lifted her wrist, gazing at the names. She read them out for the first time.

"Jazz…Prowl…Skyfire…Starscream…"

The names of those lost to her. The list hadn't been updated in a while. She needed to add Tailgate, perhaps Arcee. The old Arcee was lost, anyways. Starscream's name was not a mistake. He was lost to her. For now.

Her arm dropped to her side. She needed to face the others. Clenching her fists, Astral walked into base. Her face stung. Her Spark was aching. Nothing felt real. Tears welled in her optics, but she would not cry.

Those five pairs of optics settled on her. She fell to her knees…and sobbed.

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><p>READ AND REVIEW<p> 


	4. Wasting My Time

**Summary: **Astral and her mystery mech have time alone. Astral is thrown into combat and things go all wrong.

**Pairings: **Astral/?

**Warnings: **Epically described violence, nightmares, some (not-too-detailed) slash.

**Rating: **M (Just in case.)

**Notes: **Sorry for the higher rating. I don't want to take any chances with the violence and half-slash. Best and longest chappie. Please review, I'm not getting a lot of traffic on this one.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Transformers. I do, however, own Astral.

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><p>"Astral, what happened?"<p>

The femme sat in the main hangar, sniffling pitifully as Ratchet repaired the circuits Starscream's claws had shredded in her face. She winced slightly, wiping beneath her optics every so often. The whole Autobot team crowded around her as the medic salvaged her face. There hadn't been much underlying damage. He had said the damage was merely cosmetic in nature. Astral glanced around at them. Arcee was smug. Jack was indifferent. Bumblebee, Rafael and Miko seemed genuinely concerned. Bulkhead was worried, but he wasn't as fretful as his human companion was. As always, Prime's face was calm, showing only the tiniest hint of distress.

"When I went flying, I flew south-southeast. I ended up in Arizona and ran into some Vehicons. I took them on, got some information out of them." She looked pointedly at Bumblebee. He stood straighter. "Starscream showed up," the jet whispered.

Miko gasped. "No way! Tell me you slagged that coward!"

Astral blinked. If she could have looked down, she would have. Had things been different, she would have stood up for her father, insisted he wasn't a coward. However, she was forced to hold Miko's eager gaze. "No. I got out of there as fast as I could."

The disappointment in Miko's eyes was hard to ignore.

"I have told all my soldiers this, Astral," cut in Optimus. "But engaging the enemy on your own was extremely dangerous, especially for you. You have only just begun formal training. It was wise for you to flee when you did, otherwise things may have been much worse."

Astral nodded, pain rising in her throat and spreading to her processor and joints. She glanced at the small white case that held the painkillers. The itch for that liquid rose flooded all other senses. Ratchet's hand flashed by and gripped a wire in her wings. He yanked it, sending a sharp, white-hot pain through her body. She cried out in hurt, looking at Ratchet with confusion clouding her optics. His own azure orbs knew. Astral bit her lip, optics fixing on a point far away as Ratchet returned to the repairs.

"How many Vehicons were there?" he prompted gently, baritone voice muted to soothe, not interrogate.

"There were three. I managed to offline all of them before I realized Starscream was coming for me." She swallowed hard. "Like I said, that was when I left."

"Big surprise she ran. I guess cowardice is mandatory with the vehicle mode," muttered Arcee, face dark and holding a smirk that could kill. Shame and hate collided within Astral as she glared at the cycleformer.

"You may call me a 'Con all you want, but I am _no _coward!" she hissed, wings flaring. No one would disgrace her. No one would bring back those memories of Starscream. No one would compare her to the monster he'd become in the hands of Megatron.

"Well, you could've fooled me, jet."

Astral pushed Ratchet off her with a snarl. She lurched forward, hands closing around Arcee's throat as she snatched her up. It was hard to miss the genuine shock and fear in her optics. A grin licked at her lips as she squeezed. Mayhem ensued. Bumblebee jumped for Astral, pulling at the flier's iron grip, prying at her talons. Bulkhead put space between the two to keep the amethyst Autobot's hold from growing stronger. Ratchet was yelling at Arcee for antagonizing the femme, and he was screaming at Astral to let go. Miko was running along the panels above, trying to reach in to get pictures with her phone. Rafael was stunned into a catatonic state. Jack was muttering under his breath about girl fights.

"_Enough!"_

Everyone in the room shrunk down as _that _voice froze them in place. Optimus Prime's face was deadly angry, and the look in his optics was all but lethal.

"Arcee," he began voice solid and cold. "Watch your words from now on. Astral is a loyal Autobot and no coward. In this war, everyone has their fears." The cycleformer rubbed her neck, gathering her wounded pride. "And Astral," He turned to her, the spiteful femme releasing her tension slowly, optics focused on the floor. "Rein in your temper. Violence will earn you nothing and get you no where on this base."

"Yes, sir," she managed to squeak out.

"Let me finish your repairs," Ratchet murmured. The femme refused to look at anyone as her fellow medic welded the set of claw marks shut.

"Okay. That was easily the most wicked ninja-move ever!" shouted Miko, gazing admiringly at the photo of Astral lunging for Arcee's throat, then another of her holding the blue femme up. "Look at this, Raf! …Raf?"

Bumblebee was kneeling by Astral; Raf was on the panels by his guardian's helm. The young mech was anxious as he whirred softly. Is he alive?

"Yeah. He's alive. Most of Wasp's unit was killed. He escaped the planet Kronan with a Decepticon star cruiser." Astral forced a smile. "He's out there, 'Bee."

The yellow bot's optics were bright with the knowledge that his lover was still online. He hugged the femme on her right side while Ratchet finished with her left. Rafael smiled at the jet, mouthing 'Thank you' to the femme that had made his friend so happy.

"There you go, Astral. All patched up. There are scars, but if they're worked on, only the middle one will be visible in a few days." Ratchet lifted her servo to allow her to trace the mark. She felt the tears coming again.

"Thanks, Ratch," she whispered. The femme stood abruptly, heading straight for her room. She trembled. She was disgusted with her actions. Though she and Arcee had long been estranged and had reasons for disliking one another, Astral detested the idea of harming a fellow Autobot. The meeting with Starscream had shaken her, affected her. Too much, she noted.

The Aerialbot punched in the code to her room, unlocking it. She pushed her way inside. The femme immediately headed for her bookshelf. She took the picture from the day of her dance and stuffed it away in her desk. She had assembled it after sneaking in everyone's room earlier in the day. The surgeon lifted her hand, unable to stop running her claws over the scars. Starscream had caused these. The mech who had sparked her had ruined her face like this. Astral closed her optics, feeling her lenses readjust. She swore to herself never to take them out. Not at night, not around Starscream, never. Crying silently, the femme moved to stand by her bed, looking at the wall above her bed. The quote painted in coal black was her favorite. Her optics scanned it repeatedly, the words whispering themselves to her.

_The Spark sings loudest when coming home._

She smiled, reaching her hand up to thumb the symbols before brushing away her tears. Moving slowly, she sat on her berth. The frame dipped beneath her. She twisted to survey the datapads that hadn't yet been sorted on her desk. Sitting alone in the middle of the desk was the datapad from the mech the night before. She sighed, thinking of him. She wanted him to come back, but something told her he would only come when her nightmares did. She did not want any more. They were too real, too painful.

Someone tapped on her door. Astral turned.

"May I come in?"

The flier nodded, her Spark still finding it in itself to leap and pound ridiculously loud. Optimus strolled inside, sitting on her bed beside her. He tilted his head back just a bit to read the quote on the wall.

"Ahhh, a quote from Alpha Trion. I always liked… _'One's worst enemy was, at a time, one's closest friend.'" _The Prime looked over at the medic who was fiddling with her servos. He seemed to ask without speaking.

"She and I both lost our creators in the explosion at the research facility," she murmured. "We were all we had. Our only other friend was Tailgate. I knew Arcee was into him. But we had something." Her optics lifted, getting that faraway look that glazed over her blue orbs and took her somewhere else. "We were together for a few vorns. When he left for the cause with Arcee, I told him to tell her." She paused, a lump blocking her vocaliser. The femme looked up, staring into his lovely blue optics. His face was calm.

"What happened?" he coaxed, his servo falling onto her knee.

"He told her. Everything. Nothing was spared. They got distracted on a mission. Tailgate didn't take out the sniper. They were captured by Arachnid. Tailgate…" She buried her face in her palms. "I loved him so much. Arcee blamed me for his death. She's never forgiven me. We used to be best friends. Now we can't be in the same room without tearing each other's optics out."

There was a long pause while Optimus gave Astral time to gather herself.

"Do you regret your actions?"

Astral had to stop and think. "I think _I _should have told her. But, no, I don't regret being with Tailgate. It's been so long. We're both older. I've…accepted he's gone, but I'll never be over it. I'm just so tired of this. I want it to be put to rest."

"Then I think you need to let Arcee come to you. She has obviously not yet come to terms with the fact that Tailgate has passed. No one could have prevented his early death. She has not yet laid him to rest. When she does, she will need you most of all." Optimus Prime's servo left her knee, but he took her servo, squeezing it gently. Astral sighed softly, grateful he was there to hold her hand. "An old friend of mine once told me that every bot needs a hero at least twice in his life."

"One to save him from the enemy and one to save him from himself." A smile found its way to Astral's lips. "Ironhide."

Optimus smiled as well. The Autobot flier's smile faded, worry crawling across her frame as she thought about her commanding officer. "I know you fear he is lost to us, but Ironhide has been in this war from the beginning. I do not doubt that he is alive."

"I just want to know for sure," she murmured, voice gritty with frustration.

"I understand. I, too, would like to hear from him." Prime blinked slowly, lost in his thoughts. Astral ran her thumb over his knuckles.

"Do you ever wish you had done something differently, Optimus?" she asked him softly.

The Autobot leader cast his optics down. "There are too many things I would like to redo, Astral."

Hearing the Prime speak such wistful words, the jet saw just how vulnerable she had rendered him. Astral saw that even Optimus had done things in his life that he regretted to this day. It made her feel a bit better about ruining things with Arcee, and she felt closer to her leader. A ripple of silver along the back of Optimus' helm threw her back to when she had been his last resort, his only resort. The femme lifted her free servo and turned his helm toward her, Spark beating wildly. She had been his hero. Now, perhaps, he would be hers. They stared at each other, not saying a word, not daring to move, not even thinking remotely on the same page. However, that mattered not. They had each other for a moment. And they would draw that out as long as they could.

It was Optimus who ended it. "We both need recharge. It has been a long day."

Astral nodded, not upset that he had broken the stillness. "You're right." Her hand fell away, and she released Optimus' servo. The Prime stood; she pushed back her sheets and blanket, slipping beneath them before pulling them up to her chin. "Good-night, Optimus Prime," came her tired whisper.

"Good-night, Astral."

He closed her door, cloaking her in darkness. Astral lay still. Her intakes were the only sound in the room. Soothed by her own breathing, her shutters fell over her optics, drenching her in warm recharge. At least, it was warm at first.

Astral was standing on a cliff near a large source of water. Waves crashed on the rocks, foam spraying on her face. She could see Skyfire standing on a cliff across the water, though it still stretched out far behind him. He beckoned her, as did Tailgate. Jazz and Prowl appeared and called to her as well, begging her to come to them. It was nicer where they were. She wouldn't need to worry about them there. _"Come, Astral. Come to us."_

The eager young flier kicked off the rock, but something latched onto her legs and slammed her back down on the ground. It drug her back. Terrified, Astral looked up into the cold, smirking faces of Starscream and Arcee. Screaming loudly, the femme felt his claws sink into her face, tearing open scars that did not bleed. Yowling, she thrashed, screeching for help. _"Come to us, Astral. Come. We're over here." _The Aerialbot felt tears sting her optics and scars. _"Don't cry, sparkling," _purred Starscream. Arcee aimed her blaster at the Autobot medic's helm and fired.

A cry of mercy left her lips. Astral lay in her bed, petrified. Whimpering, she untangled herself from her blanket and sheets. Suddenly, servos descended on her body. Her shutters fluttered and closed. Warmth spread through her icy frame. She knew these servos. They were friendly. They would not harm her. The femme allowed a soft breath to escape her. The mech hummed softly, the first sound he had made. It was not like Bumblebee's hums used for communication, but this mech hummed a song to calm her down. And it worked. She turned her helm towards the sound, optics staying shut. He scooped her up, holding her close to his chassis and humming into her audio. The jet melted at the sound. She found his shoulder and held on to it, pulling herself against him and seeking his familiarity. His song found notes that soared higher and fell lower, the volume swelled and died on command. It was beautiful, though Astral had never heard it before. The young femme knew she was colorless in the dark; she wished he could see her radiant violet armor. She wanted to see this mech's colors, wanted to know if they were bold, daring, or muted and simple. Astral cradled his face in her palms, slowly learning the song as he repeated it and began to hum with him. His lips were so tantalizingly close, but she dropped her servos, allowing them to roam the expanse of his chest while he cradled her so gently. His optics gave a soft glow, but she refused to look him in the eye. She was afraid too. She was afraid she would see something she didn't want to. Shivering slightly when he kissed her neck, clutching his shoulder so forcefully, she feared she had hurt him when he tensed. But when she felt a smile against the tender plating on her throat, she knew she had not.

"Who are you?" she finally asked him, voice little more than a wisp of air molded into garbled speech.

He offered her no response. All he did was take her hand and squeeze it in his own. Astral's optics flew open. This mech. This mech. She knew who he was. At least she was nearly certain. Her Spark nearly exploded. Impossible. Why would he bother with her? Astral lifted her free servo and took his helm in her palm. Oh, Primus. Was she right? Was this him? Moving with a new drive to learn who he was, Astral molded her lips with his. He moved his hands over her body slowly while their kiss deepened. The Autobot jet let go of his servo, pulling him against her. Her entire body seemed to sigh with happiness when he broke the kiss and drew his lips across her scar. Nothing could ruin this. He raised his helm again, kissing her a second time. Astral remembered Tailgate's lips, remembered his hesitant nature, but the moment he grew confident, Astral could feel the feelings for her begin to bloom and spread with every new kiss. This Autobot was no different. The first kiss had been a test. He was trying to see if his feelings would be matched, answered, accepted. When they were he was not afraid to continue to explore what he felt. Astral was afraid that he would not reveal himself to her. Suddenly that fear became a crushing terror. She wanted to be able to say his name, call for him when she needed him. And now she needed him.

"Who are you?" she asked again.

The dark mech laid her down, curling his frame around hers in a comforting way. She rolled over, running her hands over his chassis. Though her optics were open, the mech appeared black due to a lack of light. She was frustrated beyond belief. She wanted to see him, wanted to confirm her suspicions. Another tender kiss wrenched her anger out of her.

"Please…" she whispered. "I want to know you…"

The mech traced symbols on her hip, just as he had in her dream. He spelled out, _You will. When the time is right._

Astral decided to play along in this game. Her servos fumbled at first, trying to find a node, a cluster of sensors. When she found one in the niche where his chest plates met over his Spark, she swirled her own words. _What if it's never right?_

She felt him shudder and sigh, frame warming at her touch. His servo reached back and twirled over the femme's wing, causing her to give little pants as stars flared across her optics. _Then you will know me._

Astral hated this game now. She searched for a new spot, finding a break in the armor on his strong middle. Her fingertips skittered over the nodes. _That's not good enough._

The mech growled softly, a guttural and surprisingly warming sound. He found that spot on her back, close to her hips. _You won't be able to tell when it's done._

Despite the sparks shooting through her body and the anger at his teasing, Astral made out his words. They made sense. Her servo yanked his helm down to her, trying to reach behind his audio, but he took her wrist and pushed it away, consuming her lips. The flier went limp, forgetting what she had been looking for and feeling him trace, _Astral._

_What? _she traced on his thigh.

His gentle fingers moved back to her wings, tracing on both of them. _I know you love me._

She did not break away despite her annoyance at his remark. She continued to kiss him, lips pulsing and moving with his. The medic found the strength to trace, _How can I love you if I don't know you?_

_Because you _do _know me. More than you think._

Dear Primus, this mech was making it very difficult to resist the temptation she felt increase with every sweetly brushed Cybertronian symbol. She arched closer to him, allowing him to trace her name over her entire body for a few minutes before responding, _I don't know that, now do I?_

He nipped the femme's neck, their shadowy figures locking together as he swirled over her Spark, _Then let me show you._

Whispering a soft plea, the mech's servos roamed her body with a new purpose. This was not to lull her to sleep, but this was to keep her wide awake. Their frames were entangled; their heat mingled; their desires were not ignored. Astral scrabbled at her protector's armor. Their interface hatches gone, nothing stopped them now. At the first little squeak, the mech clamped his servo over her mouth. Astral understood: no one was to hear them. She placed her palm over his own lips when he tried to hiss something. Their bodies were so close. Condensation glided over both their frames as they moved to a rhythm only they knew. Astral found her power and flipped them over, resting on him as they rocked still. The femme gasped and whined into the mech's palm, unable to resist. He, too, purred softly. The unmistakable sound of armor hitting armor rang out, impossibly loud in the quiet of the room.

Time slowed and Astral arched her back, head tilting away from the palm and letting out a sigh. On that sigh, everything she was left her. Nothing could compare with the feeling at that moment. She felt like she was diving into the waters of forever, forgetting Tailgate, forgetting any other lovers she'd ever had. Only this mech mattered right now.

The femme looked down, chest heaving as she held herself up on shaky arms. The dark mech's optics were fuzzy with static. His body trembled with that same feeling. Smiling at him, she stroked his cheek. Her affection was returned when he rolled them onto their sides and kissed her differently. Astral felt this mech try to convey everything he felt for her in that one kiss. She knew if he tried any harder, he would be consumed by disappointment that he couldn't and fall apart. The jet scraped her talons over his jaw, returning his kiss to show she understood. He broke away with a soft growl. Astral loved that sound. It reminded her so much of Tailgate.

Tailgate.

Astral had abandoned him in all of this. Would he approve? Would he be ashamed that she had made love to mech that she hardly knew? She didn't even know his _name. _The femme locked her lips with the mech's again, needing to feel him, needing to know he was there. Perhaps that was her problem: she always needed something to hold on to. Sighing into the kiss, Astral fiddled listlessly with her partner's servo.

_Astral, _traced the mech. _Try to rest._

The flier's wings trembled. She rested her forehead against his chassis, curling up and bringing her knees close to her chest. Astral shut her optics, finding sleep easier with him around.

"_Astral? You there?"_

Optics wide, Astral walked toward the sound of that voice. She called his name, but she couldn't hear herself. He appeared, his body neither broken nor battered. No wounds decorated that frame she'd been held against so many times.

"_Hey, baby."_

Feeling so much pain at hearing him speak, Astral asked him why he had left her. Tears flooded her optics and poured down her cheeks, over her scars and down her neck.

"_I wish I hadn't. We had so much going for us." _He paused, stepping closer. _"I love you."_

Sobbing, Astral managed to whisper that she still loved him.

"_I know," _he breathed, his hand touching her helm. Astral bared her dentals and shut her optics, feeling his touch ghost over her face. The sadness this was bringing her was too much to bear. _"Stop crying. Please? You know I hate it when you cry."_

The medic saw how distressed he was. Clenching her fists and jaw, Astral forced the tears to stop. She reached out and traced his lips.

"_I know you're having a rough time at base. Been watching. Arcee's being a real pain in the aft, huh?"_

Astral laughed a little, nodding. He grinned.

"_It's alright. Things are gonna get better, I promise. As for that mech…" _He shook his head. _"He's a good mech. Stubborn, though. He'll give up his name eventually."_

The femme blinked, tilting her head. She asked him.

"_Of course I approve. We ended a long time ago. I can't stop you now even if I wanted to. But I don't. Stop stressing over what might have been. I'll see you again."_

Mewling softly, Astral felt his lips touch hers, though it would have been easier trying to kiss a cloud. She could feel his lips like she felt a memory: briefly and uncertainly.

"_Love you, Astral."_

Astral found that she could hear her voice as she murmured affectionately, _"I love you, too, Tailgate."_

"_Astral…Astral…"_

::Astral! Primus-damnit, wake up!::

The Aerialbot moaned, burying her face in her pillow. It was too early. She hadn't gotten enough sleep, and her joints were stiff. The femme tried to tune out Ratchet's swearing.

::Don't make me come in there,:: he warned angrily.

::Fine, what do you want?:: she mumbled into her comm. She lifted her head off the pillow, finding the mech's spot warm. She smiled.

::We've got Decepticon activity in the South American country of Chile.::

Astral shot up, throwing the sheets off of her and ending the call. She flung open her door and started for the main hangar, optics filled with excitement and dread. However, they remained serious as to prevent anyone from seeing her like that. Her wings flared up when she saw Ratchet and Bumblebee around a monitor. Arcee shoved past her with a soft hiss. The femme snarled at her back before storming up to squeeze in by Ratchet and Bumblebee. Bulkhead and Optimus stepped into the room and strode over. Four mechs. One of them was the one who kept her nightmares away. Astral hated not knowing.

"They seem to have found a decent-sized energon vein in the heart of the Andes mountains." Ratchet typed on the screen, bringing up images of mining equipment being dropped.

"How accessible is it?" asked Optimus.

"With those tools?" The medic was still for a moment. "Very." He resumed tapping on keys; he brought up more images. "The area is heavily guarded. They aren't going to just abandon it. They're ready for a fight."

"Arcee, Bulkhead, Bumblebee," rumbled the baritone voice that everyone knew so well. "We must stop them before they drain the site."

Astral dug her fingertips into her palms. Bumblebee saw her and chirped. Prime gazed deep into Astral's optics, seeing the anger, the pleading. She had not spent three days training to be left at base like a sparkling.

"Arcee," he began. In that one word, Astral knew she would not be going. "As Astral's trainer do you feel she can hold her own on the field of battle?"

The flier looked into the grounder's optics, seeing the pain they both shared over the loss of Tailgate. She turned her head away before she saw the hate cloud her optics. Instead, she kept her gaze trained on Bumblebee who hummed his reassurance. Perhaps she would change her mind?

"No," growled Arcee.

"_What?" _cried Ratchet and Bulkhead. Bumblebee's doorwings shot up, twitching angrily as he began to protest. Optimus raised his servo, the same servo that had clutched hers in a moment of weakness yesterday afternoon, to stop them all.

"Prime, you can't be serious!" Astral quivered with the unmistakable rage in her frame. "I'm ready!"

There was a long pause. It was the longest thirty seconds of Astral's life as Optimus tried to decide whether or not to take her.

"I believe that you are, Astral. Arcee, you and I must agree to disagree on this one." Prime turned to Ratchet. The femme grinned, optics ablaze with satisfaction. "Bridge us to the mountains."

Astral stepped up, a smirk curling her lip. The hilts of her daggers glinted in the light. Finally. Her first real fight. She stood by Bumblebee and Optimus. The jet felt Arcee's piercing, uncomfortably hateful stare. Her wings fluttered. Bee mewled soft words of encouragement.

The bridge opened. Optimus ran ahead first. Astral tried to keep her pace in check, though she knew she could dart past her leader and leave him far behind. As they neared the entry point, the grounders transformed, but Astral sprinted through. She found they were halfway up the mountain, feeling the air immediately thin out. Astral scanned the area in front and above. She heard the others transform and claw at their throats.

"It's okay," she murmured softly, not bothering to look back. "The air's thinner. Just let your systems adjust."

They went silent. Slowly, the sound of their heaving intakes reduce as they learned to process the air differently. Astral smiled, turning to face them.

::Alright,:: Ratchet was on a public comm, addressing them all. ::There are a few guards on the ring above you. It would be wise if you took them out as soundlessly as possible.::

"Bots with blades should go first," suggested Bulkhead.

Astral's Spark soared with excitement when Optimus agreed. She took left, letting Arcee to go right. The femme silenced her turbines and hovered above the ground. She lifted herself and landed on the rock path, waiting for Arcee to disappear around the bend. She unsheathed one blade and crept forward, avoiding any rocks or cracks. The first mech had his back to her, cursing softly as he fiddled with his blaster. She swallowed. Astral shuffled forward, every instinct telling her to press forward. Despite the fact that they hated each other, Arcee was a very good teacher. The femme halted when he raised his head. Spark pounding, Astral realized he knew something was wrong. Rushing forward, the femme took his chin in her hand and pulled his head up. Her blade tore through his neck, severing the vitals. Energon sprayed on the wall and spilled onto the hand that held his chin and the rest of his body. She flung the dead bot over the side of the mountain. The femme wiped the blood on her hand off on the wall beside here, leaving long smears of energon. It made her tanks churn a bit. She gripped her dagger tightly as she slipped forward. The Vehicon was facing her. They were both startled into silence. Astral reacted first. Before he could call for others, she swung the long blade hard. His head rolled at her feet; his neck spurted blood. She kicked it over the side and pushed the rest after it. The next turn brought a pair of foot soldiers. The Aerialbot slipped her other blade from her sheath. The jet sprang. Her right foot came down hard on the closet one's back, obliterating the strut and tearing the neural cords that ran along it. Her blade's ripped into the other 'Con's middle. He panicked and opened up the opportunity Astral needed. She buried her dagger hilt-deep in his neck. She tore it out and let him fall. One Vehicon lay twitching from after-death spasms while they other bled out onto the rock

::Ratchet, how many more? I'm leaving energon everywhere.:: She picked up a foot soaked in blood and recoiled in disgust.

::That's it. Arcee took care the others.::

Astral looked behind her, seeing the Optimus and Bumblebee come up behind her.

"Well done, Astral," rumbled the Prime. Bumblebee looked decidedly proud.

"Thank you, Optimus." She allowed her wings to flare happily as she moved ahead between the two mechs.

::Autobots, move up,:: he commanded softly.

Astral's optics grew hard again as she snaked up to the next ring. She crossed her blades, looking around for anything she could sink her daggers into. The femme spotted a sleeping Vehicon. Smirking, she walked over and plunged the knives into his Spark, watching him slide down the wall as he died. Taking her bloody daggers back, she listened to the sound of guns firing. They had moved into one of the caves. Astral stuffed her twin blades back into their scabbards. The young Autobot transformed one hand into her EMP shotgun. The femme stormed a group of Vehicons trying to sneak away with energon. Her rounds hit home every time. The group of five lay dead. She gathered the energon, pushing it into a crevice she would be able to find later. The team needed more anyway.

"Can't stay away from the fight can you, Breakdown?"

Astral looked into the emergency exit the Decepticons had installed in case the mountain were to collapse. Bulkhead's voice still bounced out of the cave. A loud _clang _reverberated in the heart of the cavern. A 'Con came sailing toward her; she barely had enough time to cry out before he collided with her. The pair tumbled down the mountain a spitting, raging mess. Astral transformed her hand back for fear of it firing on herself. Were it not for the rings the Decepticons had carved, they would have ended up spare parts when they became acquainted with the ground. Pain jolted through her left leg while she struggled to regulate her intakes, jarred from the fall. The flier's optics opened. She blinked away the black spots and stars, groaning softly. She rolled onto her back and forced herself to sit up. The femme lifted a servo to hold her helm. At least her discs had stayed in.

"Don't move."

Cold, lifeless metal touched the back of her helm, sending terrified chills through her violet body. Her shutters opened, optics wide. The jet's Spark thudded loudly.

::Astral! Are you there?:: asked Optimus.

::Yeah. I'm a little banged up.::

::What's wrong?::

::My leg. I hit it when I landed on the ground. My wing's torn, too.:: The jet flicked the damaged wing and had to bite back a yowl of pain. ::I'm grounded.::

::I will send you help.::

::No! Don't jeopardize the mission. I'll be fine.::

::Are you sure?:: Optimus didn't like the idea. She could tell that much.

::I'm certain.::

She ended the call before he could protest.

"Turned them down. No one to save you now, 'Bot." The mech's voice sent her processor in a frenzy. She wasn't sure if that was a bad thing yet.

"Who says I need it?" replied Astral coolly, forcing herself to sound confident or at least nonchalant.

The mech laughed. "A feisty little flier, are we?" His joints hissed as he stepped around to face her. His left optic glowed a bright yellow; his right was gone, scratches and scorch marks swirling around the empty socket. All fear she initially had subsided. The wound fascinated her. She was a medic, what did she expect? The femme tilted her head, craning her neck to get a better look.

"What happened?"

"Why do you care?" he snarled.

Astral flinched away at his sharp tone. "I'm a reconstructive surgeon. That's why." She paused. "What's your designation?"

The faded blue mech lowered his hammer. "Breakdown." His red faceplates relaxed as he gazed at her. He murmured, "You can repair me."

"Only if I'm online." Astral's smoky gray face twisted in pain when she rocked her leg. The flier sighed. First mission gone wrong. "Servos off me and I'll fix you. So just…put the hammer away."

Breakdown growled, reluctantly stowing the weapon. ::Knock Out.::

::Still alive? I'm impressed. The Vehicons started betting on whether or not the fall or the femme killed you first.::

Astral growled softly.

::Shut up for a second. Set up a bridge for the temporary ward Starscream had us drill. Bulkhead knocked me into their new surgeon. We made a bargain.::

::Sure thing.::

A few moments passed. The Autobot jet looked up at the Decepticon's mauled optic. His pain receptors must be disabled, she mused. No mech can deflect the pain of having an optic ripped out. Finally, a ground bridge appeared. Breakdown stared at her, gesturing to it when she didn't move.

"You do realize I can't walk," Astral snapped.

"Ignore the pain, let's go."

The Aerialbot wanted to snap that head off. She looked around and hooked her talons into a nearby tree. Sap dribbled down her palm as she clawed up the tree, using it to pull herself up. A cry of hurt left her vocaliser when her leg slipped and bumped the roots of the tree. Huffing her irritation, she limped through the bridge ahead of Breakdown. The vortex consumed her and almost immediately released her into another, unfamiliar environment. Astral slipped on the icy floor; she caught herself by reaching out to grip a handhold in the wall. Her head hit the rock.

"Primus-damnit!"

"Language." Breakdown breezed past her, sitting down on the bench in the private cavern Knock Out had bridged them into.

"Is this the surgeon?" A mech slipped in, red armor freshly waxed. Astral was surprised. He was…attractive.

"You're Knock Out?"

"Decepticon medic." The glossy crimson grounder gave a mock bow. "Ooohh, an Aerialbot. I haven't seen one of you in a while." His red optics roved her body, taking in the sight of her. "If you're a medibot, why are you marked up like a soldier?"

"The Autobots are getting desperate," muttered Breakdown.

Astral thought it best to say nothing. She touched the scars on her face, looking away. Knock Out reached out fearlessly, turning her helm back to him. He stared at her optics for a long time before looking back at the scars.

"I could work on those if you like. That wound on your wing won't leave a scar. In fact…" Knock Out's other hand became a tool.

"Wha-?"

Knock Out immediately started on her scars. Astral tried to jerk away, but the mech wasn't just a pretty face. He held her in place while he worked. She glared at him. "Oh, don't look like that," he purred. "It'll ruin that gorgeous face you have." He tapped her nose. Astral didn't appreciate that. "There. Look for yourself." The flier turned, seeing her reflection in the ice-covered wall. She found herself smiling. Knock Out had all but erased the scars. The middle one was a simple line which he had mirrored on the other side to make it look intentional. It gave her a sharper look. She looked a bit more like Starscream. The medic's work was brilliant.

"All the tools you'll possibly need are in that back corner."

Astral turned to look. "Wait, where's the optic?"

"It was destroyed. There's glass over there you can use to patch him up with. Breakdown doesn't want me any where _near _his face so try to be careful."

"Only because you said they had put the circuits through a blender."

"My exact words were, 'They put the circuits through a blender and one wrong move could kill you.'"

Breakdown snorted. "And you wonder why you aren't allowed near me."

Astral sighed, rubbing her helm.

"Oh, by the way," said Knock Out as he started for the exit. "Your false lenses are on the floor."

The flier's mouth fell open. She moved to look at her reflection, seeing her red optics for the first time. She hadn't bothered to pay attention when she was looking at her repaired face. Astral looked down and there they lay. She knelt down, picking them up and slipping them back into her optics. She blinked, seeing blue in her reflection.

"Optical Modification Discs? A lot of trouble that comes with having those," said Breakdown, gazing at her while she probed his socket.

"Shut up, you weren't supposed to know I had them." Astral's leg nearly gave out; she swore. The femme sat down on the bench beside Breakdown as she continued to examine the wound.

"So you're a 'Con?" he asked, sitting stoic.

Astral stopped moving. Her optics looked away as she thought of Starscream. He was probably somewhere overhead right now, having a subliminal argument with Megatron. She shook off the thought, turning back to the Decepticon. "Yes."

"Why are you with the Autobots?"

"Because I'm not a full Decepticon," she snapped. The femme reached over and picked up the tools she needed and set to work, reconnecting the circuits and rebuilding a few. She continued to dig around inside his helm when she murmured, "Why do you care?"

"Never said I did."

Astral flicked her false blue gaze to his remaining optic. He returned her stare before she looked away. Satisfied that the circuitry was repaired properly, she reached for the glass. While she flailed to try and reach it, she hit her leg on the bench and hissed. Breakdown leaned over and picked up the screen. He handed it to her, seeing the sorrow in his face as he realized his face would never be the same. Astral felt pity rise in her tanks. One hand raised to caress his helm, but he swatted her away. The message was clear: he was a Decepticon, he didn't need pity. She returned to his socket. The femme placed the perfectly shaped piece of glass over his wound. The flier began to attach it to his face.

"How are things going?"

Astral looked over at Knock Out as the showy, cherry red mech strode in. She returned to Breakdown, wings fluttering dismissively. "Fine. You were smart to leave this alone. You would've ruined him."

Knock Out looked offended. "I could have done it, but I did not like the odds."

The Autobot flier grinned. "Believe what you want. You would've fumbled around and pricked the wrong wire, probably paralyzing his face."

Breakdown narrowed his optic at her.

"I am the best at what I do," snarled Astral. "I know my work."

Knock Out hovered behind Astral, watching her slender fingers flit over the right side of the Decepticon soldier's face, feeling for other broken relays or imperfections. She let go of her initial anger at the two of them as concentration took over. The femme leaned in closer, optics searching those red faceplates. Astral cocked one optic ridge as her fingertips felt nothing else wrong. The femme's servo shot back to tweak a few nodes and wires, switching his pain receptors back on and enabling him to feel every little touch.

"Any pain?"

"A little bit."

"You feel fine otherwise?" She was relieved when he nodded. "Good. Give him some painkillers and he'll be fine. You'll just need to get used to the screen." Her hands moved over his jaw and audio. "They're functioning?"

"Beautifully."

Astral's tense wings lowered. "Take a look." She moved to the side to allow him to see. Breakdown's optic became a slit. He turned away, closing it finally. It didn't matter how miraculous her repairs were. She couldn't give him his optic back. Feeling pain for the mech well in her again, Astral slid her hand over his jaw. He looked at her, that yellow orb holding her in place. Her scar glinted in the chilly light.

"Every scar tells a story," he murmured.

Knock Out rolled his optics. "Oh, please. I'll leave the scarring to you foot soldiers. Bots like Astral and I shouldn't subject ourselves to such primitive marks of combat."

"Don't act like you've _never _had a dent or wicked gash you were afraid wouldn't get fixed in time," shot back Astral.

"Only once." The blood red mech shuddered. "I don't want to talk about it…"

"Starscream put his talons to use. Marked up his face pretty good." Breakdown smirked, leaning forward and resting his left elbow on its corresponding knee. "Funny as hell to listen to him beg for mercy."

Astral's amethyst wings caught the light when they lifted abruptly. The motion aggravated her torn wing. She tried to ignore the spike of pain. The femme wished the cold would dull the sensors in the injured circuits like it had in her leg. She could bear to run on it if she needed to should things get messy.

However…she rather liked the two Decepticons. They were not unlike her. The pair had certainly taken to her faster than the Autobots. Maybe…

_No._ hissed a voice that sounded oddly like Skyfire. That thought nearly brought her to tears. _You cannot let them mean something to you. Your loyalties lie with the Autobots now._

_Yeah, but these two 'Cons like me better than Arcee and Bulkhead. _Astral gnashed her dentals. _Now I'm arguing with myself. Lovely._

"So…what's the story?" asked breakdown, voice low. The femme jumped slightly.

"Story?" she asked, confused.

"Yeah. Are you an operative for the Decepticons that the lower ranks don't know about? Or are you an outcast?"

"Neither!" Astral stood up, slipping on the glazed-over floor as she put distance between them. "Why should I trust you with my story anyway?"

"Why shouldn't you?" he retorted.

"You're a Decepticon for one." Astral waved him away as he started to respond. "Yes, I know, I'm one, too." The flier's bad leg crumpled beneath her. "Now mind your own business."

Breakdown's only optic became a thin yellow line. "Funny, you almost sounded like-"

An explosion nearby cut off his statement. Astral's talons scraped over the slick wall, desperate for a chink to help keep her upright. When nothing captured her claws, she next tremor threw her forward and sent her sprawling. The femme frantically scrabbled at the bench she and Breakdown had been sitting on. She pulled herself off the floor, Spark beating loudly.

"The entrance is blocked!"

"_What?"_

"The explosions snapped the stalagmites off the roof!"

Astral moaned, burying her face in her arm. "This _can't _be happening." She was thrown across the table, landing at an awkward angle with one wing jammed into the wall and the other into the ground with the bench blocking her body. Pain tore through her wings as the sensitive appendages were crushed between the achingly solid objects.

"If that idiot Bulkhead hadn't thrown me down the mountain into you we wouldn't be in this situation," he reminded her. He slipped when the next grenade went off. Astral was in too much pain to respond. She clenched her jaw, but the tears still gathered on the rims of her optics, spilling over onto her faceplates. She tried to pick herself up. The femme only hurt herself more by doing that. She yelped softly.

"Help me. Please," whispered Astral, feeling like a trapped animal. "_Please." _She was helpless, and she loathed depending on the mercy of this Decepticon. In fact, he would probably just stand there and grin at her suffering until the Autobots tried to find her.

Much to her relief, and surprise, Breakdown tore the bench off of its bolted stand and flung it aside. Astral slumped down, the pressure on her body gone. The femme heaved from the aches that were already creeping into her wings. She whimpered softly, sitting up and flicking them to try and ease the hurt. It did not help. Primus, it hurt.

Hands swept over the appendages. Astral gasped. The jet twisted her head to eye him warily. She shook him off and stood. The aches returned as soon as his palms left.

"Don't," she growled when he reached for them a second time. Part of her wanted to force those servos back on her wings.

"Why? You seemed to enjoy it." Breakdown smirked, yellow orb smoldering with smug glory.

Astral's face burned. "You shouldn't know those are sensitive." The mech's touch has sent warmth spiraling through her body, though she hated to admit it.

"So…" Breakdown swept his servo across the edge; the female Aerialbot arched her back.

"I hate you for this," she breathed, head falling to one side as he moved closer, chassis a hand's breadth away from her back. In truth, she couldn't ask for a better mech. Who better than to ask for relief from pain than a mech who caused it?

"You sound _very _convincing," he purred, sounding too much like Knock Out.

"Shut up."

Breakdown snickered, hands sliding over wings. He kneaded all the right sensors, rubbed all the right wires he could reach through the seams of her armor. She let a soft little sigh escape her lips, hating she was enjoying every moment, every stroke…

_Stop, _snapped that little bit of Skyfire. _This is exactly what Starscream wants. You're playing right into his bloody servos._

Astral asked him why he hated his mate, but then she remembered that this Skyfire was something that her mind had created, and her mind hated Starscream. But this was not about Starscream right now. This was about indulging herself in the bliss Breakdown was so readily giving her.

Astral ignored the beep of her comm as long as she could. Her shutters parted; her lenses realigned. Slowly, she lifted a hand to answer the call.

::Where are you?:: asked Bulkhead worriedly.

::I'm in the medbay below you guys. I heard the grenades,:: she explained. ::I repaired Breakdown's face. It was an ultimatum. I'm stuck in one of the rooms with him.::

::We'll be there shortly,:: Optimus murmured, voice strong and empowering. She ended the call. The reality that the time with her blood-faction was nearly over.

"So they're on the way?" asked Breakdown.

"Yeah." Astral's wings fluttered. "Let's make this look good Decepticon."

Without so much as an agreement, Breakdown's hammer collided with her head. She yelped as it knocked her into the wall. Blood raced down the side of her face. Somehow she managed to grip her daggers and slash at his chest and arm. Her eyesight was filled with static. Confusion crept over her. Where was she? What was she doing? The logic in her processor made her keep fighting despite the fact that she had no idea why she was even moving. Her vision cleared enough to see bulkhead thunder into the room. He started attacking Breakdown. Astral had fallen at some point and now struggled to her feet. Bumblebee was in front of her. She didn't understand. He had to drag her out of the cavern.

"Wing," she gasped, pain rocketing through her back when he latched onto it. E mewled something like an apology, though Astral couldn't tell. "Bulkhead?"

"We'll get him out," promised the Prime. Astral looked at him, distraught. Where were they all coming from? Why were they panicking? "Get her through the bridge, Bumblebee."

Head lolling to the right, Astral saw Ratchet and the warm lights of base. How had she gotten here? She gazed at Ratchet, her world starting to fade. He was yelling. He looked frightened. Why? The mech's face became another's and she whispered that name.

"_Starscream…"_

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><p><em>Read and Review!<em>


	5. Hurricane

_Summary: Astral sleeps in hell and wakes up to turmoil._

_Warnings: VERY descriptive and disturbing nightmares, fluff, mentions of abuse and possible rape, slight language._

_Rating: T_

_Notes: Yaaaaay! I finally updated! Feel free to love me now. :3 As always, please READ AND REVIEW. Btw, I loved the nightmares. They're badass._

_Disclaimer: I own only Astral and nothing else!_

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><p>Snow swirled around a dark figure. One optic was red, casting cherry light into the blizzard. The other was blue, sending purity into the snow. The lights from the two eyes morphed into things. The red light became a phoenix, its fiery maw opened to attack. The blue light became a stag, its antlers razor sharp. They locked together in a battle before the unknown bot. A laugh came from somewhere distant, providing an eerie soundtrack to the fight. Purple blood sprayed from the two light-animals and splashed on the figure, painting her in liquid amethyst. The figure ripped the phoenix's wings off its back and they became her own. She used the stag's antlers to create her armor. Their life essence became silver and colored her face, her middle and all other exposed places. A satisfied smirk crawled across her face, optics glinting as the phoenix and he stag wailed behind her in agony.<p>

Astral.

The scene changed. Tailgate embraced Astral, his optics meeting hers. She kissed his words away. They took each other's hands, dancing to a song that only they knew. Her wings flared, casting darkness over them. The mech she held so close to her Spark was dead. She was dancing with his Scraplet-infested body. There was a long, open slash from Arachnid across his throat. Astral screamed, letting him fall to the ground. He fell apart, and the Scraplets skittered away from the useless dust and crawled over her body. She tried to throw them off. When that didn't work, she ran away. They chewed at her internals, gnawing at her processor and optics until she went mad and blind. The femme babbled nonsense as they devoured her logic circuits. The young medic opened her mouth to scream and they crawled out to nibble on her tongue, dentals and lips. Slowly, they ate her away to nothingness. An image of Tailgate appeared, growing solid as the Scraplets consumed her body. She reached out a hand to take his and a Scraplet crawled up her arm, biting at her fingertips as she tried to get to him.

The sound of Scraplets reducing her to powder evaporated, leaving her in utter darkness and silence. She was aware that she was sane now. She was alive. The femme stood up, trying to fix on something. There was a light. Blinking hopefully, she walked towards it. Soft bubbling teased her audio. The rank smell of spilled energon left to sit in the heat worked into her olfactory sensors. She gagged. A click sounded and the light dumped over the room. Dead bodies lay everywhere. She recognized their wounds. They were the Vehicons she had killed on the mountain. She stumbled back, seeing she had been walking in their blood. The energon pool showed their grisly deaths over again. Astral forced herself to look away. She saw Starscream standing in the middle of the blood. Part of her wanted to stay rooted to the spot she was in while the other half ached to be with her father, see the downfall of all civilizations beneath the Decepticons. Astral's body literally ripped itself into two pieces. The right half raced to Starscream, morphing to become a whole again. The left half did the same thing, blue optics staring into the red. The femme saw herself unsheathe one dagger and raise it over her head. The Autobot-Astral begged for mercy. Her arm flung the blade. It buried itself in her head and she fell into the blood. It opened up, and she was swallowed.

The Aerialbot landed in the air. Her optics were blue, but the discs were in. No knife was not dug into her helm anymore. She hovered, rain battering her frame. Lightning flashed; it was so close she could have reached out and took it to use as a weapon. Thunder nearly shattered the femme's audio receptors. The wind swirled and picked her up. She screamed as it tossed her around like a plaything. She thrashed against the gale. She could find no rhythm in this storm. She wasn't even sure what it was. The word came to her despite the fact that she had never heard it before: _hurricane._ Astral wailed as she felt that horrible sensation start in her back. Skyfire had always warned her not to fight a storm if you couldn't fly in it, always told her what would happen if she did. No, no, no. Astral twisted and turned, trying to settle into the wind. It was impossible. She couldn't find a beat. The nauseating ripping sound started. There was no stopping it now. Pain burned across her whole body. Astral forced her optics open and saw her wings circle the storm and flit away from her. With no means to keep her aloft in the storm, Astral plummeted. She continued to gain momentum as she fell from the heart of the hurricane. Her Spark pounded. The femme broke through the wave and slammed into the water, splitting apart.

Astral's shutters rose. She was on her knees with her wrists bound behind her head. She raised her helm, surveying the empty, blood-stained room. The femme saw Starscream stride toward her. Chirps left the surgeon's vocaliser, expecting him to free her from this primitive torture position. The mech held out a small bar and clicked it. An energon prod unfolded and sparked at the tip. Optics growing fearful, Astral yelped and struggled against the chains. Starscream's face did not change as he reared back with the prod. He thrust; it collided with her chassis and sent excruciating electric shockwaves through her entire body. She screamed, body convulsing and writhing. He took back the prod, allowing her only a second of relief. He rammed the tip into her neck, shorting out her optics as she wailed. Static filled her voice as the prod started to fry her vocaliser. He took it back and walked around to hit her wing. A bloodcurdling squeal echoed in the room. After Starscream was satisfied, Breakdown walked into the room, black glass glinting in the light. He stood over her and raised his hammer. She shut her optics. She didn't want to see it coming. The mech's hammer crashed into her helm.

A warm chassis greeted her. Astral dared to open her eyes and saw the mech that comforted her. She smiled, tucking herself against the mech. His hands roved her body. The Autobot medic kissed his neck, murmuring soft, soothed sounds. He found her wing. She arched her back, feeling both hands take it. The femme grinned. A screech of surprise and pain left her when he ripped the wing as easily as a piece of paper. He tore open her face and blasted her left leg off. She screamed, unable to do much else as his hand worked into her Spark chamber. The flier tried to wriggle away from him. His fingers closed around her Spark and he yanked his fist out, sending her spiraling into permanent blackness…

Light streamed in from the one-way window, bouncing around the room. It fell on the berth that resided beneath a Cybertronian quote. Violet armor visible above the ivory sheets shimmered in the white light from the fading stars. The femme's wings were still, finally unbothered by nightmares. She let out a soft sigh, clutching her pillow. Astral lay still with her back to the world. Her wing had, again, been repaired as had her leg and the injury to her head. Breakdown's hammer had cracked the armor on her helm and caused massive processor damage. The prognosis had been grim for a while, but Ratchet had refused to give up the young Aerialbot. Now she rested comfortably, her nightmares gone thanks to the hands of the dark mech that had never left her side. Astral looked delicate, almost sparkling-like, curled up on her berth. Shutters twitching, a smile crossed her faceplates when a large servo splayed over her helm, fingers stroking the new crisscrossing scars. The femme mumbled incoherently as she tried to ease closer to the palm and its owner. That hand stroked her smoky face tenderly. Astral opened one optic, allowing it to adjust to the dim light. Yawning widely, she squinted before blinking multiple times to reset her lenses. She lifted her gaze, optics settling on the shadowy mech. For a few minutes, she allowed herself to immerse herself in his warming touch, staying silent as he trailed his hands over the new lines that Knock Out had created to even her complexion.

"Can't say I expected you," she managed to rasp, smiling at her own sarcasm. She lidded her optics halfway when her bed rocked to accommodate the shifting of the mech's weight as he leaned forward to stroke her brow.

"I did not intend on leaving you," he whispered.

Astral's optics shot open. That voice. He had spoken. All secrecy that had been between these two was no more. Any doubt about the identity of this mech was gone now. She raised herself to a sitting position, running her hand over his helm, fingertips grazing over that telltale mark behind his audio.

"I knew it was you," breathed the young medic, wings rising and falling slowly. She stared into those strong optics. They were bluer than the skies she so loved. Her own blue-green orbs were disbelieving. How did something like this happen? How did a mech, selfless and powerful, turn his head to look at her: a lowly Decepticon hiding among Autobots? She touched her helm to his, their lips almost painfully close.

"Astral…"

She hushed him softly, wanting only to know his presence. Words would only shatter the silence she needed right now. She needed to have time to process the identity of this mech. The Aerialbot pulled him closer, tears stinging her optics. She should be happy. This bot had picked her. Out of all the surviving Autobots that he could have had his pick from, he wanted her. But Astral was only consumed by guilt. Even now she deceived him into thinking she was an Autobot when in truth she was no better than Megatron.

_Quit thinking like that, _yowled that part of Skyfire that seemed to surface at the most inopportune times. _Just take this mech. There is nothing to be ashamed of. You cannot help who you are._

The tears in her optics seemed to draw back. Astral saw truth in those words. She could not change her heritage. That, however, did not mean she was ready to flaunt it, much less accept it. It did change her perspective, though.

His hands started to roam over her body. The Autobot medic sealed the distance between them, her lips capturing his. The femme was overwhelmed by the urge to see him, really see him. She tried to reach for the lamp, but he forced her hand away from it.

"Not yet," hissed the mech softly, drawing her against him. He nuzzled her helm, exhaling softly against her armor. Astral closed her optics slowly, feeling his lips press against her audio and trail down her jaw. She smiled when he wrapped his arms around her. The mech lowered her; he twined himself around her. Their optics started to dim. Astral let her shutters fall, sleep calling to her...

"Astral."

A soft growl of protest left the half-conscious jet. She pressed her face into the mech's chassis. A laugh resonated in his throat. Astral forced her optics open and red paint instantly consumed her vision. The Aerialbot femme grinned; she raised her head and found herself staring into the optics of Optimus Prime.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, voice taking on its characteristic rumble.

"Yeah. Did you?"

The mech hesitated. Astral watched him for a second, frowning when he seemed at loss for an answer. "Prime?"

"Sorry. Yes, I slept fine." Optimus lifted a hand and cupped her cheek in his servo, thumbing beneath her optic. There was a wave of remorse thundering behind that affectionate gesture. "If I had known, I would not have taken you with us to South America."

Smiling slightly, Astral murmured, "You're a sweet bot, Optimus, but you couldn't have known."

The Prime let a rare smile slip by, dazzling her with its sheer radiance. His optics never left hers as he traced the line Starscream had drawn on her face. They were both silent as they appreciated Knock Out's work, yet they hated that it had been necessary.

"I'm no soldier. I'm a surgeon," she muttered bitterly. Her fingers curled into her pillow. "Now I'll have these scars until I'm offlined." Astral clenched her jaw.

"You should be proud. You earned them defending our cause." The Autobot leader sat up, running his hand along her side. She stretched before sitting up. The young medic flicked her wings, looking over her shoulder at them. No scars adorned either appendage; she examined her leg, finding no marks. Good. She tucked her legs beneath her, thinking about his words.

"I can't yet." She lifted her head and gazed into her Prime's gentle optics. Her processor turned to sludge as he focused on her and her alone. Time seemed to slow as the realization that he cared for her washed her in warmth. "Optimus…"

Prime dove for her, sweeping her up as he kissed her with a newfound passion. She rocked forward, throwing her arms around his neck. Their kiss deepened and took Astral back to the night they had made love. It did not seem real. She fitted her body against his; he broke away and kissed her neck.

"Astral," he purred.

She could not find her voice. The medibot wanted only his proximity right now. His Spark pounded against his chassis, and she could feel it through her own heavy pulse. The Autobot leader pressed his hand into her back, bringing her even closer until she feared she would melt into him. The flier's wings fluttered. Optics shut, she held onto her lover, audios ringing with the disbelief he could hold so much passion for a young Aerialbot within that regal frame. But in these arms, that was all she was. She was a surgeon, a jet, an Autobot that he ached for when she was around or wasn't. The femme wished she could be cradled against his broad chassis for eternity, knowing his warmth, his security, his comfort forever. No one had had such an impression on her since Tailgate. She wanted so badly to bottle this feeling, this moment and hold onto it, share it. It was perpetual bliss.

Optimus raised his head and caressed her lips with his own. Astral thought she would break down and cry at the tenderness he offered her. Losing Starscream, being damaged continuously in a war she never wanted to fight and battling with the drugs had taken so much out of her. Her superior gave her the release she needed.

Breaking the contact, she opened her optics lazily. She smiled, whispering, "It was nice…waking up to this."

"Hmm." The Prime smiled against her temple. "I am glad you liked it. I thought it best not to keep you wondering who I was any longer."

Astral returned his smile, scraping her talons over his neck smoothly. "Thoughtful of you." She allowed him to stroke her wings, causing her to curl her back as the nodes were set ablaze.

"I have you assigned to patrol base's borders this evening, if you feel up to it."

"Of course I do, why wouldn't I?"

Optimus Prime kissed her forehead. She beamed. "Ground or air?"

"Either will be fine."

There was a long silence between the two. Astral accepted his affection and returned it eagerly, overjoyed that he had revealed himself. She flicked her wings about; the appendages seemed to fascinate the Prime as he continued to reach for them, caress them. His gears hissed when he moved, arching over her while she pressed the side of her face into his chest and closed her optics. The mech's fingertips continued to stroke the edges of her wings and back. "Astral, you're a beautiful femme."

The jet felt the energon pool beneath the dermaplating on her face. She tried to press tighter against him, but he still managed to ease her away and sweep his gaze over her. She was not "pretty" in the usual sense. The femme was not dainty or built to be frail. She was pretty in the sense that she was…_enigmatic._ Though the rest of her body had an alluring, mysterious manner caused by her alternate mode, her optics were what captivated all bots, Optimus not excluded. They were expertly shaped, the outside edges tilting upward slightly. The blue-green color was unusual and pulled anyone bold enough to look her straight on, in. Astral seemed to know just how to rotate her head, how to lid them, how to use them to get a mech to turn her way. Somehow it lured them in. It was not the lust in those orbs, but the false delicacy. It was the _illusion_ that this femme was easily broken. However, it was not an illusion. But no one could know that.

"Optimus," she mumbled, looking up. "Won't the others wonder? They may not like the idea…" She swallowed the rest of the sentence.

"We do not have to tell anyone now if that would make you more comfortable." Optimus reached out and rubbed her upper arm.

"Thank you." She slumped down and eased to the edge of her bed, standing up. "I guess I should check in with Doc."

"That would be wise," he agreed, standing as well.

Shaking her head at his ever present formalities, Astral sauntered out of her room. Excitement bubbled in her lithe form. Her face was not unlike a mask of sly glee. She could be happy, but she could not show it. She did, however, carry herself higher as she walked into the main hangar. Ratchet immediately abandoned his screens and strode over, calling, "How are you feeling?"

"Fine. I've got a bit of an ache near the scarring, but that's expected." She lowered her head to allow him access to the site of the wound. He rested his fingertips against her temple, looking at the device in his hand as it read her pulse and processor activity. "Both are at normal levels, but a bit elevated. Good signs. You seem to be healing fine."

"Ratchet, I know what to look for." She raised her helm again. Her optics surveyed the area. "The others?"

"Patrolling across the globe. They'll return soon to pick up the humans."

Astral nodded. A thought crossed her mind. She reached down and unsheathed her twin blades. Her optic ridges came together. "Who cleaned them?"

"Arcee did."

Her optics widened as she jerked her head up. Ratchet shrugged, just as perplexed. The Aerialbot femme drew her talons over the flickering steel. The jet didn't understand. Had Arcee had a change of Spark after seeing her in action, seeing her bleeding from Breakdown's attack? It made no sense. If anything, it was downright insanity.

"I need some tools cleaned," said the medic. "You mind?"

She shook her head, stowing her blades. "It's not like I've got anything better to do until patrol tonight." Swinging over to the rough medbay, she sat down and picked up a pair of forceps, dragging a cleaning cloth over the metal.

"You have patrol _tonight_?"

Astral was surprised at Ratchet's hissed words. She looked up and saw him, anger burning quite clearly within his now-shaking frame. "Yes…Optimus didn't tell you?"

His silence was enough. She lowered her gaze, setting back to work on the tools. She fell into an easy rhythm, humming softly as she moved through the tools with little effort. The only sounds came from her, the occasional clinking of tools and Ratchet's incessant typing. It was a peaceful setting.

Loud, demanding red fought with subduing blue and flashy chrome as Optimus Prime stepped into the room. He ordered attention even without speaking. Her wings lifted as she tried her hardest to return to cleaning Ratchet's tools. She flicked her gaze to him briefly, finding his optics burning into her longingly. A smile touched her lips. He strode over to Ratchet.

"No one has reported Decepticon activity today," stated the medic. "We have not had any since the incident with the gauntlet."

"Yes the Decepticons have been oddly quiet as of late."

Astral lifted her head, those words confusing her. "Wait, what gauntlet incident?"

The pair ignored her as Ratchet bristled, growling, "And I hear you put Astral on evening patrol."

"Of base's borders, yes."

"Are you out of your fragging mind? She was half-conscious with low-level processor activity for _three days!"_

The young surgeon jumped up, knocking tools over. They clattered to the ground. "You aren't serious!"

"I felt it would do her good to leave base, begin a normal schedule." Optimus blinked calmly.

"Breakdown cracked open her processor and nearly caused permanent damage!"

"Will someone _please _tell me what the _frag _is going on?"

The two turned to stare her down. Her teeth were bared in an irritated snarl. Ratchet stepped ahead of Optimus, quickly spitting out, "Breakdown's hammer ruptured your entire processor. You're lucky your motor relays didn't shut down while you were fighting him." Astral's optics went wide; she forced herself to sit down. Ratchet watched her carefully for a moment, the realization that she had been comatose for three days dawning on her. Astral looked up at them; her optics swam with disbelief. She blinked slowly, trying to understand it. How had she not known she had been on the verge of never waking up? This was why she did not want to fight this war. It put too much at risk. The femme touched the hilts of her daggers as comfort. She thought of Ironhide, and that made her feel better. Astral stood, swaying slightly, before striding toward the exit.

"Where do you think you're going? Your neural functions could freeze at any second!" snapped Ratchet.

"Out. I need to fly, Ratchet, please," Astral begged, wings trembling. "It's all I have."

Grumbling slightly, he nodded. She snuck a look at the Prime who's optics were understanding. She transformed and shot out of the hole, leaving the two to argue over her.

Screaming through the cloudless sky proved to be highly therapeutic. Astral found it much easier to deal with the fact she had almost been offlined. She thanked Primus she hadn't, knowing if she had she would have never known the identity of the mech who chased her nightmares away. She still didn't like that Breakdown had broken loose and aimed to kill her. Why had he done it? They seemed to have shared something in the cave. It was unnerving. She mentally scolded herself for creating a fantasy that Breakdown had liked her, wanted to know her. He was a Decepticon. It was all part of an act.

The Aerialbot medic found herself flying toward the site where she had been reunited with Starscream. Something was pulling her there. She did not like it, but she would not ignore it.

She transformed and landed on the sand. She stepped forward, marring the golden innocence with her footsteps. She flexed her talons, considering reaching up and clawing out her lenses despite the promise she had made to herself after Starscream had attacked her. Would it be worth it to break that promise? To immerse herself in her heritage even if only for a few precious moments? Her decision was made when she raised her hand and pulled the lenses out, allowing them to rest in her palm. Red light coated the sand, making it a dark orange. She knew, especially with Knock Out's repairs, that she looked even more like her Spark-father. Her sharp wingtips sliced the crisp air as she fell to her knees, tearing at the sand with her vicious claws. What possessed her to scratch at the grains, she didn't know. Optimus' soft growls and azure optics refused to leave her alone. What would he do if he ever found out who she was?

"Astral."

That voice. She felt frozen though her head snapped up and, she leapt to her feet, backing away. The femme met those apologetic rubies, her own optics filled with uncertainty. He stepped closer. It made sense all of a sudden.

Astral had almost literally been pulled this direction. Seekers and Aerialbots had unique family ties. When one felt extreme emotions, such as sorrow, it sent a pulse through the rest of the immediate family, drawing them in. It was something grounders never knew unless they became mated to a flier. She had no choice but to fly over to him.

"Starscream," she breathed, chest heaving in short, deep breaths. "Starscream." Her empty hand raised to draw her fingertips over the line he had created. He winced as those slender fingers touched the scar, as though she were tearing out his internals. The mech turned his head away, recomposing himself.

"You know I did not intend to harm you, Astral," he rumbled, raising his distressed crimson stare. "I hated myself the instant I saw the mark."

Despite the wariness yowling not to trust him, she shook her head and murmured, "Don't. You've changed. So have I."

"That does not excuse what I did!" he snarled, pressing his fists into his head as though the pressure would drive all the malice, all the Decepticon out of him. "What kind of person am I to tear open my own daughter's face?" Shutting his optics tightly, Starscream's body shook with disgust for himself. Eyes widening, she crept forward, noticing two things: the tears on his face and the silvery welds on his chassis.

"Those are new," she pointed out, jerking her chin slightly at the scars. Starscream lowered his hands, brushing at them as though he could wipe them off his very armor. "Did…" She took a deep breath, afraid of the answer. "Did Megatron do that to you?"

The Decepticon jet seemed content to discard the subject of opening up his sparkling's face, though he was clearly unhappy about the new one. He muttered something unintelligible as a response. Astral shook her head ever so slightly.

"Why do you let him hurt you?" she hissed, talons clicking on his chest as she stood up straight. "No good leader attacks his soldiers."

"He doesn't. Just me." The silver Seeker looked away.

"Star. Star…" She called him the name she had adopted for him all those vorns ago when she had said her first words. "Don't put up with this."

"He always apologizes!"

"That doesn't _mean _anything to him!" Astral cupped her father's face in her hands, turning his helm and staring at the mech.

The lithe Decepticon murmured, "I have only been with one mech since Skyfire's murder." His ruby orbs locked with her own. The Aerialbot's discs felt smooth against his jaw, for she kept them in her left hand. It reminded him that she remained apart from him as an Autobot.

"Starscream, if he loved you he wouldn't _do _this to you. Skyfire never ripped open your Spark chamber and you were never afraid of him. I remember that much about you two. That was love. This is…" She spat angrily. "I don't even know _what _to call it."

The Decepticon mech had to smile slightly. "How is it that you seem to know more about this than I do?"

She shrugged, a smile pulling at her features. "Call me an Autobot. I've gotten a bit soft." The femme let her arms drop to her sides. "Can…can I ask you something?" The young Aerialbot bit her lower lip, showing her nervousness.

"Anything, my sparkling," said Starscream, genuine affection lacing his words. He stroked her helm.

"Why didn't you come back for me after Skyfire died? After you knew you would join the Decepticons?"

Starscream froze, pressing his fingertips to his thin lips. His bright red optics searched her face. Then he saw her. He saw that baby he had abandoned, leaving her to think he had burned to death inside that research tower. "I didn't want to force you into a lifestyle, like the other night when I ached for you to be back with me. I wanted you to pick your own side, become who you wanted, not who the Decepticons wanted you to be." He blinked. "I knew if I had told them about you, if you had gone with me, there was no guarantee that you would have lived long enough to become a foot soldier, much less a surgeon. Now you're _alive _and a successful Aerialbot medic."

Astral took Starscream's servo while the other holding the lenses dangled beside her. "I miss you, Star," she whined, tears suddenly racing down her face. Grief overwhelmed her Spark, spilling into her body until she thought she would die from the despair choking her.

"And I you, sweetspark." He kissed her forehead before leaning back to trace the shape of her optics. "You should go back."

"Why?"

"Maybe because your comm has been pulsing for three cycles?"

"It's just Optimus," she mumbled, both biting her lip and reaching behind her to rub the back of neck. Starscream knew what those two motions meant. And he wasn't sure if he liked it.

"I know that voice," he cooed. "You sounded the same way whenever you talked about Tailgate with Arcee before the explosion!"

"What are you implying?"

"You're fooling around with a Prime!" he sang, tapping her nose playfully. He flicked his wings about when she glared at him. The femme lowered her head and slipped her lenses back in, blinking rapidly to align them. Starscream felt a lump form in his throat when he saw that blue light spill over her purple armor. Astral looked up, seeing the sadness the Decepticon could not hide. Tears welled up and her lenses began to slide across her optics. She blinked; she pulled herself together. "Easy. Until next time?"

Astral nodded. "Yes."

Starscream pressed his lips to her nasal plating. The Aerialbot medic let her shutters fall over her optics, reveling in his warmth, his proximity. His presence receded. The surgeon waited a few moments before opening her eyes. Starscream was a good distance away. His body was tense, ready for takeoff. Suddenly a thought dawned over her sluggish processor.

"Wait!" He halted. "Would you ever become an Autobot?"

There was a long silence. Starscream looked over his shoulder at her. "Would you ever become a Decepticon?"

The jet took off before she could respond. Shaking heavily, she knew the answer. The femme leapt into the air and shifted. Gliding through the air, she returned to base, body still warm from the love of her father. The Aerialbot transformed again at the mouth of base and walked in, wings moving idly. Her blue optics caught Prime's. The mech's jaw flexed and rippled in the light. There was a slight crease in his brow. The corners of his lips were tugged downward in a miniscule frown. Her Spark swelled slightly. He was worried.

"It would do you good to answer your comm," said Optimus evenly, baritone voice rattling her composure.

"Prime, I'm sorry." She let out a heavy sigh. "I just needed to block out reality for a while." She laid her slender hands in her leader's larger-much larger-ones. The mech looked relieved that she had seen the worry, the fear. The femme smiled, reassurance tracing the small gesture. He raised a hand to thumb her optic ridge.

"The rest of the team should be back soon with the humans."

"Right." Astral allowed their servos to break away. "Did anybody else visit me since I was out?"

"Yes. I broke away a few times for Ratchet and Bumblebee to visit. Miko and Raf insisted on giving you small organic plants called…_roses."_ The leader frowned slightly at the foreign word. "However, they died quickly and we had to remove them."

Astral looked disappointed. She had not seen much in the way of organic flora or fauna. Hopefully that would change. "Do you think they will-"

Prime's lips stole all hope of finishing that thought. Optics wide with surprise, Astral was too dumbfounded to return the kiss. After a few moments, the tall mech pulled away and straightened.

"I…I don't…" she breathed. At that moment, she did not care how stupid she sounded. She was lost for words. Utterly speechless.

"Astral, you worry me," he rumbled, only a twinge of amusement in his words. "You are so young, so reckless... I fear that you will do something rash or out of anger and end up as you before. Only the next time..." He clenched his jaw as the ominous thought finished itself.

The jet bared her teeth slightly with a soft hiss. Reckless? Her? She was no sparkling! "Optimus, you really think I am _that _immature?" she growled. "All due respect, but are you out of your fragging mind? I'm more mature than everyone hear except you and Ratchet! But I'm starting to question that now with the way you're talking about me."

"I would like to say no to your first question, but you are not helping your case right now," he replied coldly. "I am speaking to you as your leader now: I am taking you off tonight's patrol and from here on out until you prove otherwise, you are not to seperate from the group or your partner during a mission or a patrol."

Astral scoffed in disbelief. "You're treating me like a child!" she said, voice rising in pitch. She sounded so much like Starscream. Optimus blinked, noticing the sound of her voice. His face changed as he listened to her.

"Perhaps if you stopped acting like one, it would not be nessecary," he growled, still staying collected. Neither of them had paid any attention to the fact that Arcee, Bulkhead and Bumblebee had returned to base with their respectable humans.

"You didn't seem to think I was acting like a child when you _fragged me _hardly a decacycle ago!" squealed Astral. Her optics burned with rage. Prime saw Starscream within that fiesty flier. "Remember this, Optimus Prime, next time you come looking for a berth mate!"

The Decepticon-Autobot whirled around, storming toward her room. Her amethyst wings darted about so quickly, afterimages followed the appendages. She slammed her door shut when she made her way inside. Fury twisted her spark. A child? A _child? _She felt disgusted by the comparison. How dare he call her a sparkling!

Slowly, the anger drained out of her, leaving her completely drained. Astral sighed, and she buried her face in her palms. Her temper had flared yet again. _Damn you, Starscream,_ she hissed to herself. How she hated that she had gotten that short temper of his. Astral thought of Optimus, regretting the words she had thrown in his face. A lump formed in her throat.

"What have I done?" she whimpered.

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><p><em>Finally! READ AND REVIEW :D<em>


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